
Glass. 
Book. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 



THE LAND 
OF FOOTPRINTS 

BY 

STEWART EDWARD WHITE 




ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR 
AND TWO DRAWINGS BY PHILIP R, GOODWIN 



GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
1912 






^^v^ 



Copyright, 1912, by 

DOUBLEDAT, PaGE & COMPANY 

AU rights reserved, including that of 

translation into foreign languages, 

including the Scandinavian 



>CI.A328^57 






THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

Arizona Nights, The Blazed Trail, Blazed Trail Stories, The Cabin, 

Camp and Trail, The Claim Jumpers, Conjuro/s House, 

The Forest, Thr Rules of the Game, The Riverman, 

The Mystery (^zvith Samuel Hopkins Adams), 

The Silent Places, The Westerners, 

The Adventures of Bobby Orde, 

The Mountains, The Pass, 

The Magic Forest, 

The Sign at Six. 



:_s.p-i^^v^-: .;^| 




Those were the first wild lions I had ever seen. 



CONTENTS 



I. 

II. 
III. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 



XIX 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 



PAGE 

On Books of Adventure 3 

Africa 11 

The Central Plateau 31 

The First Camp 35 

Memba Sasa 43 

The First Game Camp 62 

On the March 75 

The River Jungle 89 

The First Lion 103 

Lions 123 

Lions Again ........ 137 

More Lions 144 

On the Managing of a Safari . . . 162 

A Day on the Isiola 176 

The Lion Dance 190 

Fundi 196 

Natives . 210 

In the Jungle 

(a) The March to Meru .... 223 

(b) Meru 234 

(c) The Chiefs 240 

(d) Out the Other Side .... 264 

The Tana River 271 

Divers Adventures Along the Tana . . 286 

The Rhinoceros 297 

The Rhinoceros (Continued) . . . . 313 

The Hippo Pool 321 

The Buffalo ^ . 33S 





CONTENTS 




XXV. 


The Buffalo (Continued) .... 


348 


XXVI. 


JujA 


370 


XXVII. 


A Visit at Juja 


376 


OCVIII. 


A Residence at Juja ..... 


388 


XXIX. 


Chapter the Last 


406 




Appendix I 


407 




Appendix II 


408 




Appendix III 


. 409 




Apendix IV The American in Africa . 


. 419 




Apendix V The American in Africa 


435 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

"These were the first wild lions I had ever seen" . Fr otitis piece y,^ 

FACING PAGE 

"They sported a great variety of garments" 38 "^ 

"M'ganga, the headman, tall, fierce, big framed and bony" 38 '^ 

On the march 39^ 

"The blankets they were twisting most ingeniously into 

turbans" , 39^^ 

"The great tangled forests themselves" 42 v' 

"Behind us marched the four gimbearers ; then the four syces" 43 . 

Memba Sasa 50 . 

Chanler's reedbuck 51 

Jackson's hartebeeste 62 

The oryx 63 • 

"The motionless and picturesque figure of Saa-sita (six 

o'clock)" 63 i^ 

Notata gazelle 64 ^' 

"Tall, beautiful falls, plunging several hundred feet into the 

forest" 65 

"They broke through a pass " 80 ^ 

"In an open grove of acacias, we pitched our tents" ... 8i »/ 
"A great deal of time they spent before their tiny fires 

roasting meat and talking" 84 

"Distributing "potio' or rations to the men" 84 > 

On the Northern Guaso Nyero River 85 

"At this point far up in its youth, it was a friendly river" . 85 ,^, 

vii 

t 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

The exact spot where the lioness fell, taken from the exact 

spot we crouched when we shot her ii6 -^ 

*'I placed the little gold bead of my 405 Winchester where I 

thought it would do the most good" 117 • 

The lioness that charged when I had only the Springfield 

and no gunbearer. Also Mavrouki and Memba Sasa . 146 ^^ 
The lion we killed out of the band of eight after following 

them for hours 147 ^ 

The safari lined up for roll call 158' 

"With these three raw materials, M'ganga and his men set 

to work" 159 

The maneless lion killed on the Isiola 180 

Grevy's Zebra 181 

"That wonderful phenomenon, the gathering of the carrion 

birds". . . . ' 188 

Fundi 189 

"In a very short time, we had left the plains, and were 

adrift in an ocean of grass" 232 

"By half an hour we had acquired a long retinue" .... 232 

"The native quarters lying in the hollow" 22>:i 

"In short, it was a genuine, scientific, well-kept golf course" 233 

Meru. In the native quarters. Women grinding corn . . . 244 
"It resembles the rolling, beautiful downs of a first-class 

coimtry club" 245 1 

Meru 245 

"They were evil looking savages" 252 

"It was as fine a panoramic view as one could imagine" . . 253 • 
"Where we could pitch camp — generally this was atop a 

ridge" 253 

M'booley and two of his wives 256 

''They were dressed in grass skirts and carried long shields" 256 

viii 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

**0n the slopes and in the bottoms were patches of magni§- 

cent forest" 257 k" 

"In fact, the young ladies were quite coy and flirtatious" . 260 ^^ 

Totos 261 "^ 

"The savages commenced to drift in, very haughty and 

arrogant. They were fully armed" 261 t^ 

"These chickens rode atop the loads" 268 '--' 

The Tana River 269 

Bushbuck 272 

A crocodile 273 . 

Ward's zebra 290 

"The plains fire — behind it was blackened soil, and above it 

rolled dense clouds of smoke" 291 

"These wart-hogs are most comical brutes" 292 

A camp on the Thika River — a tributary of the Tana . . .293 

"The lioness was an unusually large one" 292 

"At twelve feet from the wounded beast we stopped" . . .293 

Rhinoceros charging 302 

"The beast's companion refused to leave the dead body" . 302 

"The rhinoceros ... is one of Africa's unbelievable animals" 303 

"At first the traveller is pleased and curious over rhinoceros" 306 

"And departed over the hill" 306 

"At the last camp we were in nothing but palms" .... 307 

"The babies are astonishing and amusing creatures" . . . 318 

"Descended the steep bank to the river's edge" 318 

"The Hippo pool on the Tana" 319 

"Funny Face" 324 

At the Hippo Pool 325 

The dik-dik — smallest of antelope 332 

Typical African ant hills 333 • 

ix 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

"The name of the valley was Lengeetoto" 352 

The big buflalo as he finally fell 353 

The head of the big bufifalo that nearly got Billy .... 353 

Herds of game at Juja 372 

"In the river bottom land . . . is a very extensive vegetable 

and fruit garden" 373 

"Donya Sabuk — the Mountain of Buffaloes — is the only 

landmark" 384 

*7uja Farm" 384 

"McMillan and the Abyssinian mules" 385 

"Squatting on their heels and pulling methodically but 

slowly at the weeds" 400 

"Ostriches at Long Juja" 401 

At Long Juja — a strictly utilitarian farm 401 



THE LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 



THE 
LAND OF FOOTPRINTS 

I 

ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE 

BOOKS of sporting, travel, and adventure in 
countries little known to the average reader 
naturally fall in two classes — neither, with a very 
few exceptions, of great value. One class is perhaps 
the logical result of the other. 

Of the first type is the book that is written to make 
the most of far travels, to extract from adventure 
the last thrill, to impress the awestricken reader 
with a full sense of the danger and hardship the 
writer has undergone. Thus, if the latter takes out 
quite an ordinary routine permit to go into certain 
districts, he makes the most of travelling in "closed 
territory," implying that he has obtained an especial 
privilege, and has penetrated where few have gone 
before him. As a matter of fact, the permit is 
issued merely that the authorities may keep track 
of who is where. Anybody can get one. This class 
of writer tells of shooting beasts at customary ranges 

3 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

of four and five hundred yards. I remember one in 
especial who airily and as a matter of fact killed all 
his antelope at such ranges. Most men have shot 
occasional beasts at a quarter mile or so, but not 
airily nor as a matter of fact: rather with thanks- 
giving and a certain amount of surprise. The 
gentleman of whom I speak mentioned getting 
an eland at seven hundred and fifty yards. By 
chance I happened to mention this to a native 
Africander. 

"Yes," said he, "I remember that; I was there." 

This interested me — and I said so. 

"He made a long shot," said I. 

"A good long shot," replied the Africander. 

"Did you pace the distance?" 

He laughed. "No," said he, "the old chap was 
immensely delighted. 'Eight hundred yards if it 
was an inch!' he cried." 

"How far was it.?" 

"About three hundred and fifty. But it was a long 
shot, all right." 

And it was! Three hundred and fifty yards is a 
very long shot. It is over four city blocks — New 
York size. But if you talk often enough and glibly 
enough of "four and five hundred yards," it does not 
sound like much, does it.'* 

The same class of writer always gets all the thrills. 

4 



ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE 

He speaks of "blanched cheeks," of the *' thrilling 
suspense," and so on down the gamut of the shilling 
shocker. His stuff makes good reading: there is no 
doubt of that. The spellbound public likes it, and 
to that extent it has fulfilled its mission. Also, the 
reader believes it to the letter — why should he not? 
Only there is this curious result: he carries away in his 
mind the impression of unreality, of a country im- 
possible to be understood and gauged and savoured 
by the ordinary human mental equipment. It is 
interesting, just as are historical novels, or the 
copper-riveted heroes of modern fiction, but it has no 
real relation with human life. In the last analysis 
the inherent untruth of the thing forces itself on 
him. He believes, but he does not apprehend; he 
acknowledges the fact, but he cannot grasp Its human 
quality. The affair is Interesting, but It Is more or 
less concocted of pasteboard for his amusement. 
Thus essential truth asserts its right. 

All this, you must understand. Is probably not a 
deliberate attempt to deceive. It is merely the 
recrudescence under the stimulus of a brand-new 
environment of the boyish desire to be a hero. When 
a man jumps back Into the Pleistocene he digs up 
some of his ancestors' cave-qualities. Among these 
is the desire for personal adornment. His modern 
development of taste precludes skewers In the ears 

5 

« 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

and polished wire around the neck; so he adorns 
himself in qualities instead. It is quite an engaging 
and diverting trait of character. The attitude of 
mind it both presupposes and helps to bring about 
is too complicated for m^ brief analysis. In itself 
it is no more blameworthy than the small boy's 
pretence at Indians in the back yard; and no more 
praiseworthy than infantile decoration with feathers. 
In its results, however, we are more concerned. 
Probably each of us has his mental picture that 
passes as a symbol rather than an idea of the different 
continents. This is usually a single picture — a 
deep river, with forest, hanging snaky vines, ana- 
condas and monkeys for the east coast of South 
America, for example. It is built up in youth by 
chance reading and chance pictures, and does as well 
as a pink place on the map to stand for a part of the 
world concerning which we know nothing at all. As 
time goes on we extend, expand and modify this 
picture in the light of what knowledge we may ac- 
quire. So the reading of many books modifies and 
expands our first crude notions of Equatorial Africa. 
And the result is, if we read enough of the sort I 
describe above, we build the idea of an exciting 
dangerous, extra-human continent, visited by half- 
real people of the texture of the historical-fiction 
hero, who have strange and interesting adventures 

6 



ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE 

which we could not possibly imagine happening to 
ourselves. 

This type of book is directly responsible for the 
second sort. The author of this is deadly afraid of 
being thought to brag or his adventures. He feels 
constantly on him the amusedly critical eye of the 
old-timer. When he comes to describe the first time 
a rhino dashed in his direction, he remembers that 
old hunters, who have been so charged hundreds of 
times, may read the book. Suddenly, in that light, 
the adventure becomes pitifully unimportant. He 
sets down the fact that "we met a rhino that turned 
a bit nasty, but after a shot in the shoulder decided 
to leave us alone." Throughout he keeps before his 
mind's eye the imaginary audience of those who have 
done. He writes for them, to please them, to con- 
vince them that he is not "swelled head," nor 
"cocky," nor "fancies himself," nor thinks he has 
done, been, or seen anything wonderful. It Is a 
good, healthy frame of mind to be in; but It, no more 
than the other type, can produce books that leave 
on the minds of the general public any Impression of 
a country in relation to a real human being. 

As a matter of fact, the same trouble is at the 
bottom of both failures. The adventure writer, half 
unconsciously perhaps, has been too much occupied 
in play-acting himself into half-forgotten boyhood 

7 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

heroics. The more modest man, with even more 
self-consciousness, has been thinking of how he is 
going to appear in the eyes of the expert. Both have 
thought of themselves before their work. This 
aspect of the matter would probably vastly astonish 
the modest writer. 

If, then, one is to formulate an ideal toward which 
to write, he might express it exactly in terms of man 
and environment. Those readers desiring sheer 
exploration can get it in any library: those in search 
of sheer romantic adventure can purchase plenty of 
it at any book-stall. But the majority want some- 
thing different from either of these. They want, first 
of all, to know what the country is like — not in 
vague and grandiose "word paintings," nor in strange 
and foreign sounding words and phrases, but in 
comparison with something they know. What is it 
nearest like — Arizona ^ Surrey .? Upper New York ? 
Canada.^ Mexico .f' Or is it totally different from 
anything, as is the Grand Caiion.'' When you 
look out from your camp — any one camp — how far 
do you see, and what do you see.? — mountains in 
the distance, or a screen of vines or bamboo near at 
hand, or what.f* When you get up in the morning, 
what is the first thing to do.? What does a rhino 
look like, where he lives, and what did you do the 
first time one came at you.? I don't want you to tell 

8 



ON BOOKS OF ADVENTURE 

me as though I were either an old hunter or an 
admiring audience, or as though you were afraid 
somebody might think you were making too much of 
the matter. I want to know how you really felt. 
Were you scared or nervous? or did you become 
cool? Tell me frankly just how it was, so I can see 
the thing as happening to a common everyday human 
being. Then, even at second-hand and at ten 
thousand miles distance, I can enjoy it actually, 
humanly, even though vicariously, speculating a bit 
over my pipe as to how I would have liked it myself. 

Obviously, to write such a book the author must 
at the same time sink his ego and exhibit frankly 
his personality. The paradox in this is only ap- 
parent. He must forget either to strut or to blush 
with diffidence. Neither audience should be for- 
gotten, and neither should be exclusively addressed. 
Never should he lose sight of the wholesome fact 
that old hunters are to read and to weigh; never 
should he for a moment slip into the belief that he is 
justified in addressing the expert alone. His atti- 
tude should be that many men know more and have 
done more than he, but that for one reason or 
another these men are not ready to transmit their 
knowledge and experience. 

To set down the formulation of an ideal is one 
thing: to fulfil it is another. In the following pages 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

I cannot claim a fulfilment, but only an attempt. 
The foregoing dissertation must be considered not 
as a promise, but as an explanation. No one knows 
better than I how limited my African experience is, 
both in time and extent, bounded as it is by East 
Equatorial Africa and a year. Hundreds of men 
are better qualified than myself to write just this 
book; but unfortunately they will not do it. 



iO 



II 

AFRICA 

IN LOOKING back on the multitudinous pictures 
that the word Africa bids rise in my memory, 
four stand out more distinctly than the others. 
Strangely enough, these are by no means all pictures 
of average country — the sort of thing one would 
describe as typical. Perhaps, in a way, they sym- 
bolize more the spirit of the country to me, for 
certainly they represent but a small minority of its 
infinitely varied aspects. But since we must make 
a start somewhere, and since for some reason these 
four crowd most insistently in the recollection, it 
might be well to begin with them. 

Our camp was pitched under a single large mi- 
mosa tree near the edge of a deep and narrow ravine 
down which a stream flowed. A semicircle of low 
mountains hemmed us in at the distance of several 
miles. The other side of the semicircle was occupied 
by the upthrow of a low rise blocking off an horizon 
at its nearest point but a few hundred yards away. 
Trees marked the course of the stream; low scattered 

II 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

bushes alternated with open plain. The grass grew 
high. We had to cut it out to make camp. 

Nothing indicated that we were otherwise situated 
than in a very pleasant, rather wide grass valley in 
the embrace of the mountains. Only a walk of a 
few hundred yards atop the upthrow of the low rise 
revealed the fact that it was in reality the lip of a 
bench, and that beyond it the country fell away in 
sheer cliffs whose ultimate drop was some fifteen 
hundred feet. One could sit atop and dangle his 
feet over unguessed abysses. 

For a week we had been hunting for greater kudu. 
Each day Memba Sasa and I went in one direction, 
while Mavrouki and Kongoni took another line. We 
looked carefully for signs, but found none fresher 
than the month before. Plejity of other game made 
the country interesting; but we were after a shy and 
valuable prize, so dared not shoot lesser things. At 
last, at the end of the week, Mavrouki came in with 
a tale of eight lions seen in the low scrub across the 
stream. The kudu business was about finished, as 
far as this place went, so we decided to take a look for 
the lions. 

We ate by lantern and at the first light were 
ready to start. But at that moment, across the 
slope of the rim a few hundred yards away, appeared 
a small group of sing-sing. These are a beautiful 

12 



AFRICA 

big beast, with widespread horns, proud and won- 
derful, like Landseer's stags, and I wanted one of 
them very much. So I took the Springfield, and 
dropped behind the line of some bushes. The stalk 
was of the ordinary sort. One has to remain behind 
cover, to keep down wind, to make no quick move- 
ments. Sometimes this takes considerable manoeu- 
vring; especially, as now, in the case of a small band 
fairly well scattered out for feeding. Often after 
one has succeeded in placing them all safely behind 
the scattered cover, a straggler will step out into 
view. Then the hunter must stop short, must 
slowly, oh very, very slowly, sink down out of sight; 
so slowly, in fact, that he must not seem to move, 
but rather to melt imperceptibly away. Then he 
must take up his progress at a lower plane of eleva- 
tion. Perhaps he needs merely to stoop; or he may 
crawl on hands and knees; or he may lie flat and 
hitch himself forward by his toes, pushing his gun 
ahead. If one of the beasts suddenly looks very 
intently in his direction, he must freeze into no 
matter what uncomfortable position, and so remain 
an indefinite time. Even a hotel-bred child to whom 
you have rashly made advances stares no longer nor 
more intently than a buck that cannot make you out. 
I had no great diflficulty with this lot, but slipped 
up quite successfully to within one hundred and 

13 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

fifty yards. There I raised my head behind a little 
bush to look. Three does grazed nearest me, their 
coats rough against the chill of early morning. Up 
the slope were two more does and two funny, fuzzy 
babies. An Immature buck occupied the extreme 
left with three young ladles. But the big buck, the 
leader, the boss of the lot, I could not see anywhere. 
Of course he must be about, and I craned my neck 
cautiously here and there trying to make him out. 

Suddenly, with one accord, all turned and began 
to trot rapidly away to the right, their heads high. 
In the strange manner of animals, they had received 
telepathic alarm, and had Instantly obeyed. Then 
beyond and far to the right I at last saw the beast 
I had been looking for. The old villain had been 
watching me all the time! 

The little herd in single file made their way rapidly 
along the face of the rise. They were headed in the 
direction of the stream. Now, I happened to know 
that at this point the stream-cafion was bordered 
by sheer cliffs. Therefore, the sing-sing must round 
the hill, and not cross the stream. By running to 
the top of the hill I might catch a glimpse of them 
somewhere below. So I started on a jog trot, trying 
to hit the golden mean of speed that would still leave 
me breath to shoot. This was an affair of some 
nicety in the tall grass. Just before I reached the 

14 



AFRICA 

actual slope, however, I revised my schedule. The 
reason was supplied by a rhino that came grunting 
to his feet about seventy yards away. He had not 
seen me, and he had not smelled me, but the general 
disturbance of all these events had broken into his 
early morning nap. He looked to me like a person 
who is cross before breakfast, so I ducked low and ran 
around him. The last I saw of him he was still 
standing there, quite disgruntled, and evidently in- 
tending to write to the directors about it. 

Arriving at the top, I looked eagerly down. The 
cliff fell away at an impossible angle, but sheer 
below ran out a narrow bench fifty yards wide. 
Around the point of the hill to my right — where the 
herd had gone — a game trail dropped steeply to 
this bench. I arrived just in time to see the sing- 
sing, still trotting, file across the bench and over its 
edge, on some other invisible game trail, to continue 
their descent of the cliff. The big buck brought up 
the rear. At the very edge he came to a halt, and 
looked back, throwing his head up and his nose out 
so that the heavy fur on his neck stood forward like 
a ruff. It was a last glimpse of him, so I held my 
little best, and pulled trigger. 

This happened to be one of those shots I spoke of 
— which the perpetrator accepts with a thankful 
and humble spirit. The sing-sing leaped high in the 

15 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

air and plunged over the edge of the bench. I sig- 
nalled the camp — in plain sight — to come and get 
the head and meat, and sat down to wait. And while 
waiting, I looked out on a scene that has since been 
to me one of my four symbolizations of Africa. 

The morning was dull, with gray clouds through 
which at wide intervals streamed broad bands of 
misty light. Below me the cliff fell away clear to a 
gorge in the depths of which flowed a river. Then 
the land began to rise, broken, sharp, tumbled, 
terrible, tier after tier, gorge after gorge, one twisted 
range after the other, across a breathlessly immeasur- 
able distance. The prospect was full of shadows 
thrown by the tumult of lava. In those shadows 
one imagined stranger abysses. Far down to the 
right a long narrow lake inaugurated a flatter, alkali- 
whitened country of low cliffs in long straight lines. 
Across the distances proper to a dozen horizons the 
tumbled chaos heaved and fell. The eye sought 
rest at the bounds usual to its accustomed world — 
and went on. There was no roundness to the earth, 
no grateful curve to drop this great fierce country 
beyond a healing horizon out of sight. The im- 
mensity of primal space was in it, and the simplicity 
of primal things — rough, unfinished, full of mystery. 
There was no colour. The scene was done in slate 
gray, darkening to the opaque where a tiny distant 

i6 



AFRICA 

rain squall started; lightening in the nearer shadows 
to reveal half-guessed peaks; brightening unexpect- 
edly into broad short bands of misty gray light 
slanting from the gray heavens above to the sombre 
tortured immensity beneath. It was such a thing 
as Gustave Dore might have imaged to serve as 
abiding place for the fierce chaotic spirit of the 
African wilderness. 

I sat there for some time hugging my knees, wait- 
ing for the men to come. The tremendous land- 
scape seemed to have been willed to immobility. 
The rain squalls forty miles or more away did not 
appear to shift their shadows; the rare slanting 
bands of light from the clouds were as constant as 
though they were falling through cathedral windows. 
But nearer at hand other things were forward. The 
birds, thousands of them, were doing their best to 
cheer things up. The roucoulements of doves rose 
from the bushes down the face of the cliffs; the bell 
bird uttered his clear ringing note; the chime bird 
gave his celebrated imitation of a really gentlemanly 
sixty-horse power touring car hinting you out of the 
way with the mellowness of a chimed horn; the bottle 
bird poured gallons of guggling essence of happiness 
from his silver jug. From the direction of camp, 
evidently jumped by the boys, a steinbuck loped 
gracefully, pausing every few minutes to look back, 

17 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

his dainty legs tense, his sensitive ears pointed toward 
the direction of disturbance. 

And now, along the face of the cliff, I began to 
make out the flashing of much movement, half 
glimpsed through the bushes. Soon a fine old-man 
baboon, his tail arched after the dandified fashion of 
the baboon aristocracy, stepped out, looked around, 
and bounded forward. Other old men followed him, 
and then the young men, and a miscellaneous lot of 
half-grown youngsters. The ladies brought up the 
rear, with the babies. These rode their mothers' 
backs, clinging desperately while they leaped along, 
for all the world like the pathetic monkey "jockeys" 
one sees strapped to the backs of big dogs in circuses. 
When they had approached to within fifty yards, I 
remarked "hullo!" to them. Instantly they all 
stopped. Those in front stood up on their hind 
legs; those behind clambered to points of vantage 
on rocks and the tops of small bushes. They all 
took a good long look at me. Then they told me 
what they thought about me personally, the fact of 
my being there, and the rude way I had startled 
them. Their remarks were neither complimentary 
nor refined. The old men, in especial, got quite 
profane, and screamed excited billingsgate. Finally 
they all stopped at once, dropped on all fours, and 
loped away, their ridiculous long tails curved in a 

i8 



AFRICA 

half arc. Then for the first time I noticed that, under 
cover of the insults, the women and children had silent- 
ly retired. Once more I was left to the familiar gentle 
bird calls, and the vast silence of the wilderness beyond. 

The second picture, also, was a view from a height, 
but of a totally different character. It was also, 
perhaps, more typical of a greater part of East 
Equatorial Africa. Four of us were hunting lions 
with natives — both wild and tame — and a scratch 
pack of dogs. More of that later. We had rum- 
maged around all the morning without any results; 
and now at noon had climbed to the top of a butte 
to eat lunch and look abroad. 

Our butte ran up a gentle but accelerating slope 
to a peak of big rounded rocks and slabs sticking out 
boldly from the soil of the hill. We made ourselves 
comfortable each after his fashion. The gunbearers 
leaned against rocks and rolled cigarettes. The 
savages squatted on their heels, planting their spears 
ceremonially in front of them. One of my friends 
lay on his back, resting a huge telescope over his 
crossed feet. With this he purposed seeing any 
lion that moved within ten miles. None of the rest 
of us could ever make out anything through the fear- 
some weapon. Therefore, relieved from responsibility 
by the presence of this Dreadnaught of a 'scope, we 
loafed and looked about us. This is what we saw: 

19 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Mountains at our backs, of course — at some 
distance; then plains in long low swells like the easy 
rise and fall of a tropical sea, wave after wave, and 
over the edge of the world beyond a distant horizon. 
Here and there on this plain, single hills lay becalmed, 
like ships at sea; some peaked, some cliffed like buttes, 
some long and low like the hulls of battleships. The 
brown plain flowed up to wash their bases, liquid 
as the sea itself, its tides rising in the coves of the 
hills, and ebbing in the valleys between. Near at 
hand, in the middle distance, far away, these fleets 
of the plain sailed, until at last hull-down over the 
horizon their topmasts disappeared. Above them 
sailed too the phantom fleet of the clouds, shot with 
light, shining like silver, airy as racing yachts, yet 
casting here and there exaggerated shadows be- 
low. 

The sky in Africa is always very wide, greater than 
any other skies. Between horizon and horizon is 
more space than any other world contains. It is as 
though the cup of heaven had been pressed a little 
flatter; so that while the boundaries have widened, 
the zenith, with its flaming sun, has come nearer. 
And yet that is not a constant quantity either. I 
have seen one edge of the sky raised straight up a 
few million miles, as though some one had stuck 
poles under its corners, so that the western heaven 

20 



AFRICA 

did not curve cup-wise over to the horizon at all 
as it did everywhere else, but rather formed the 
proscenium of a gigantic stage. On this stage they 
had piled great heaps of saffron yellow clouds, and 
struck shafts of yellow light, and filled the spaces 
with the lurid portent of a storm — while the twenty 
thousand foot mountains below, crouched whipped 
and insignificant to the earth. 

We sat atop our butte for an hour while H. looked 
through his 'scope. After the soft silent immensity 
of the earth, running away to infinity, with its low 
waves, and its scattered fleet of hills, it was with 
difficulty that we brought our gaze back to details 
and to things near at hand. Directly below us we 
could make out many different-hued specks. Look- 
ing closely, we could see that those specks were game 
animals. They fed here and there in bands of from 
ten to two hundred, with valleys and hills between. 
Within the radius of the eye they moved, nowhere 
crowded in big herds, but everywhere present. A 
band of zebras grazed the side of one of the earth 
waves, a group of gazelles walked on the skyline, 
a herd of kongoni rested in the hollow between. On 
the next rise was a similar grouping; across the 
valley a new variation. As far as the eye could 
strain its powers it could make out more and ever 
more beasts. I took up my field glasses, and brought 

21 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

them all to within a sixth of the distance. After 
amusing myself for some time in watching them, I 
swept the glasses farther on. Still the same animals 
grazing on the hills and in the hollows. I continued 
to look, and to look again, until even the powerful 
prismatic glasses failed to show things big enough 
to distinguish. At the limit of extreme vision I could 
still make out game, and yet more game. And as 
I took my glasses from my eyes, and realized how 
small a portion of this great land-sea I had been 
able to examine; as I looked away to the ship-hills 
hull-down over the horizon, and realized that over 
all that extent fed the Game; the ever-new wonder of 
Africa for the hundredth time filled my mind — the 
teeming fecundity of her bosom. 

"Look here," said H. without removing his eye 
from the 'scope, "just beyond the edge of that shadow 
to the left of the bushes in the donga — I've been 
watching them ten minutes, and I can't make 'em 
out yet. They're either hyenas acting mighty queer, 
or else two lionesses." 

We snatched our glasses and concentrated on that 
important detail. 

To catch the third experience you must have 
journeyed with us across the "Thirst," as the natives 
picturesquely name the waterless tracc of two days 

22 



AFRICA 

and a half. Our very start had been delayed by a 
breakage of some Dutch-sounding essential to our 
ox wagon, caused by the confusion of a night attack 
by lions: almost every night we had lain awake as 
long as we could to enjoy the deep-breathed grum- 
bling or the vibrating roars of these beasts. Now at 
last, having pushed through the dry country to the 
river in the great plain, we were able to take breath 
from our mad hurry, and to give our attention to 
affairs beyond the limits of mere expediency. One 
of these was getting Billy a shot at a lion. 

Billy had never before wanted to shoot anything 
except a python. Why a python we could not quite 
fathom. Personally, I think she had some vague 
idea of getting even for that Garden of Eden affair. 
But lately, pythons proving scarcer than in that 
favoured locality, she had switched to a lion. She 
wanted, she said, to give the skin to her sister. In 
vain we pointed out that a zebra hide was very 
decorative, that lions go to absurd lengths in re- 
taining possession of their own skins, and other 
equally convincing facts. It must be a lion or 
nothing; so naturally we had to make a try. 

There are several ways of getting lions, only one of 
which is at all likely to afford a steady pot shot to a 
very small person trying to manipulate an over-size 
gun. That is to lay out a kill. The idea is to catch 

23 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the lion at it in the early morning before he has 
departed for home. The best kill is a zebra: first, 
because lions like zebra; second, because zebra are 
fairly large; third, because zebra are very numerous. 

Accordingly, after we had pitched camp just 
within a fringe of mimosa trees and of red-flowering 
aloes near the river; had eaten lunch, smoked a pipe 
and issued necessary orders to the men, C. and I set 
about the serious work of getting an appropriate 
bait in an appropriate place. 

The plains stretched straight away from the river 
bank to some indefinite and unknown distance to 
the south. A low range of mountains lay blue to 
the left; and a mantle of scrub thornbush closed the 
view to the right. This did not imply that we could 
see far straight ahead, for the surface of the plain 
rose slowly to the top of a swell about two miles 
away. Beyond it reared a single butte peak at four 
or five times that distance. 

We stepped from the fringe of red aloes and squint- 
ed through the dancing heat shimm.er. Near the 
limit of vision showed a very faint glimmering whit- 
ish streak. A newcomer to Africa would not have 
looked at it twice: nevertheless, it could be nothing 
but zebra. These gaudily marked beasts take 
queer aspects even on an open plain. Most often 
they show pure white; sometimes a jet black; only 

24 



AFRICA 

when within a few hundred yards does one dis- 
tinguish the stripes. Almost always they are very 
easily made out. Only when very distant and in a 
heat shimmer, or in certain half lights of evening, 
does their so-called "protective colouration" seem to 
be in working order, and even then they are always 
quite visible to the least expert hunter's scrutiny. 

It is not difficult to kill a zebra, though sometimes 
it has to be done at a fairly long range. If all you 
want is meat for the porters, the matter is simple 
enough. But when you require bait for a lion, that 
is another affair entirely. In the first place, you 
must be able to stalk within a hundred yards of your 
kill without being seen; in the second place, you must 
provide two or .three good lying-down places for 
your prospective trophy within fifteen yards of the 
carcass — ^ and no more than two or three; in the 
third place, you must judge the direction of the prob- 
able morning wind, and must be able to approach 
from leeward. It is evidently pretty good luck to 
find an accommodating zebra in just such a spot. 
It is a matter of still greater nicety to drop him ab- 
solutely in his tracks. In a case of porters' meat it 
does not make any particular difference if he runs a 
hundred yards before he dies. With lion bait even 
fifty yards makes all the difference in the world. 

C. and I talked it over and resolved to press Scally- 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

wattamus into service. Scallywattamus is a small 
white mule who is firmly convinced that each and 
every bush in Africa conceals a mule-eating rhinoc- 
eros, and who does not intend to be one of the 
number so eaten. But we had noticed that at times 
zebra would be so struck with the strange sight of 
Scallywattamus carrying a man, that they would let 
us get quite close. C. was to ride Scallywattamus 
while I trudged along under his lee ready to shoot. 

We set out through the heat shimmer, gradually 
rising as the plain slanted. Imperceptibly the camp 
and the trees marking the river's course fell below 
us and into the heat haze. In the distance, close to 
the stream, we made out a blurred, brown-red solid 
mass which we knew for Masai cattle. Various little 
Thomson's gazelles skipped away to the left wag- 
gling their tails vigorously and continuously as 
Nature long since commanded "Tommies" to do. 
The heat haze steadied around the dim white line, 
so we could make out the individual animals. There 
were plenty of them, dozing in the sun. A single 
tiny treelet broke the plain just at the skyline of the 
rise. C. and I talked low-voiced as we went along. 
We agreed that the tree was an excellent landmark 
to come to, that the little rise afforded proper cover, 
and that in the morning the wind would in all likeli- 
hood blow toward the river. There were perhaps 

26 



AFRICA 

twenty zebra near enough the chosen spot. Any 
of them would do. 

But the zebra did not give a hoot for Scallywat- 
tamus. At five hundred yards three or four of them 
awoke with a start, stared at us a minute, and moved 
slowly away. They told all the zebra they happened 
upon that the three idiots approaching were at 
once uninteresting and dangerous. At four hun- 
dred and fifty yards a half dozen more made off at a 
trot. At three hundred and fifty yards the rest 
plunged away at a canter — all but one. He re- 
mained to stare, but his tail was up, and we knew he 
only stayed because he knew he could easily catch 
up in the next twenty seconds. 

The chance was very slim of delivering a knockout 
at that distance, but we badly needed meat, anyway, 
after our march through the Thirst, so I tried him. 
We heard the well-known plunk of the bullet, but 
down went his head, up went his heels, and away 
went he. We watched him in vast disgust. He 
cavorted out into a bare open space without cover 
of any sort, and then flopped over. I thought I 
caught a fleeting grin of delight onMavrouki'sface; 
but he knew enough instantly to conceal his satis- 
faction over sure meat. 

There were now no zebra anywhere near; but since 
nobody ever thinks of omitting any chances in. 

27 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Africa, I sneaked up to the tree and took a per- 
functory look. There stood another, providentially 
absent-minded, zebra! 

We got that one. Everybody was now happy. 
The boys raced over to the first kill, which soon took 
its dismembered way toward camp. C. and I care- 
fully organized our plan of campaign. We fixed in 
our memories the exact location of each and every 
bush; we determined compass direction from camp, 
and any other bearings likely to prove useful in finding 
so small a spot in the dark. Then we left a boy to 
keep carrion birds off until sunset; and returned home. 

We were out in the morning before even the first 
sign of dawn. Billy rode her little mule, C. and I went 
afoot, Memba Sasa accompanied us because he could 
see whole lions where even C.'s trained eye could not 
make out an ear, and the syce went along to take 
care of the mule. The heavens were ablaze with the 
thronging stars of the tropics, so we found we could 
make out the skyline of the distant butte over the 
rise of the plains. The earth itself was a pool of 
absolute blackness. We could not see where v/e 
were placing our feet, and we were continually bring- 
ing up suddenly to walk around an unexpected aloe 
or thornbush. The night was quite still, but every 
once in a while from the blackness came rustlings, 
scamperings, low calls, and once or twice the startled 

28 



AFRICA 

barking of zebra very near at hand. The latter 
sounded as ridiculous as ever. It is one of the many 
incongruities of African life that Nature should have 
given so large and so impressive a creature the pet- 
ulant yapping of an exasperated Pomeranian lap 
dog. At the end of three quarters of an hour of more 
or less stumbling progress, we made out against the 
sky the twisted treelet that served as our landmark. 
Billy dismounted, turned the mule over to the syce, 
and we crept slowly forward until within a guessed 
two or three hundred yards of our kill. 

Nothing remained now but to wait for the day- 
light. It had already begun to show. Over be- 
hind the distant mountains some one was kindling 
the fires, and the stars were flickering out. The 
splendid ferocity of the African sunrise was at hand. 
Long bands of slate dark clouds lay close along the 
horizon, and behind them glowed a heart of fire, as 
on a small scale the lamplight glows through a metal- 
worked shade. On either side the sky was pale 
green-blue, translucent and pure, deep as infinity 
itself. The earth was still black, and the top of the 
rise near at hand was clear edged. On that edge, 
and by a strange chance accurately in the centre 
of illumination, stood the uncouth massive form of 
a shaggy wildebeeste, his head raised, staring to the 
east. He did not move; nothing of that fire and 

29 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

black world moved; only instant by instant it 
changed, swelling in glory toward some climax until 
one expected at any moment a fanfare of trumpets, 
the burst of triumphant culmination. 

Then very far down in the distance a lion roared. 
The wildebeeste, without moving, bellowed back an 
answer or a defiance. Down in the hollow an os- 
trich boomed. Zebra barked, and several birds 
chirped strongly. The tension was breaking not in 
the expected fanfare and burst of triumphal music, 
but in a manner instantly felt to be more fitting to 
what was indeed a wonder, but a daily wonder for all 
that. At one and the same instant the rim of the 
sun appeared and the wildebeeste, after the sudden 
habit of his kind, made up his mind to go. He 
dropped his head and came thundering down past 
us at full speed. Straight to the west he headed, 
and so disappeared. We could hear the beat of his 
hoofs dying into the distance. He had gone like a 
Warder of the Morning whose task was finished. 
On the knife-edged skyline appeared the silhouette 
of slim-legged little Tommies, flirting their tails, 
sniffing at the dewy grass, dainty, slender, confiding, 
the open-day antithesis of the tremendous and awe- 
some lord of the darkness that had roared its way to 
its lair, and to the massive shaggy herald of morn- 
ing that had thundered down to the west. 

30 



Ill 

THE CENTRAL PLATEAU 

NOW is required a special quality of the imag- 
ination, not in myself, but in my readers, for 
it becomes necessary for them to grasp the logic of a 
whole country in one mental effort. The difficulties 
to me are very real. If I am to tell you it all in de- 
tail, your mind becomes confused to the point of 
mingling the ingredients of the description. The 
resultant mental picture is a composite; it mixes 
localities wide apart; it comes out, like the snake- 
creeper - swamp - forest thing of grammar - school 
South America, an unreal and deceitful impression. 
If, on the other hand, I try to give you a bird's-eye 
view — saying, here is plain, and there follows up- 
land, and yonder succeed mountains and hills — 
you lose the sense of breadth and space and the toil 
of many days. The feeling of onward outward ex- 
tending distance is gone; and that impression so in- 
dispensable to finite understanding — "here am I, 
and what is beyond is to be measured by the length 
of my legs and the toil of my days." You will not 

31 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

stop long enough on my plains to realize their physi- 
cal extent nor their influence on the human soul. 
If I mention them in a sentence, you dismiss them in 
a thought. And that is something the plains them- 
selves refuse to permit you to do. Yet sometimes 
one must become a guide-book, and bespeak his 
reader's imagination. 

The country, then, wherein we travelled begins 
at the sea. Along the coast stretches a low rolling 
country of steaming tropics, grown with cocoanuts, 
bananas, mangoes, and populated by a happy, half- 
naked race of the Swahilis. Leaving the coast, the 
country rises through hills. These hills are at first 
fertile and green and wooded. Later they turn into 
an almost unbroken plateau of thorn scrub, cruel, 
monotonous, almost impenetrable. Fix thorn scrub 
in your mind, with rhino trails, and occasional open- 
ings for game, and a few rivers flowing through palms 
and narrow jungle strips; fix it in your mind until 
your mind is filled with it, until you are convinced 
that nothing else can exist in the world but more and 
more of the monotonous, terrible, dry, onstretching 
desert of thorn. 

Then pass through this to the top of the hills far 
inland, and journey over these hills to the highland 
plains. 

Now sense and appreciate these wide seas of plains, 

2>2 



THE CENTRAL PLATEAU 

and the hills and ranges of mountains rising from 
them, and their infinite diversity of country — 
their rivers marked by ribbons of jungle, their scat- 
tered-bush and their thick-bush areas, their grass 
expanses, and their great distances extending far 
over exceedingly wide horizons. Realize how many 
weary hours you must travel to gain the nearest 
butte, what days of toil the view from its top will 
disclose. Savour the fact that you can spend months 
in its veriest corner without exhausting its pos- 
sibilities. Then, and not until then, raise your eyes 
to the low rising transverse range that bands it to 
the west as the thorn desert bands it to the east. 

And on these ranges are the forests, the great 
bewildering forests. In what looks like a grove lying 
athwart a little hill you can lose yourself for days. 
Here dwell millions of savages in an apparently un- 
touched wilderness. Here rises a snow mountain 
on the equator. Here are tangles and labyrinths, 
great bamboo forests lost in folds of the mightiest 
hills. Here are the elephants. Here are the swing- 
ing vines, the jungle itself. 

Yet finally it breaks. We come out on the edge 
of things and look down on a great gash in the earth. 
It is like a sunken kingdom in itself, miles wide, with 
its own mountain ranges, its own rivers, its own land- 
scape features. Only on either side of it rise the 

33 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

escarpments which are the true level of the plateau. 
One can spend two months In this valley, too, and 
in the countries south to which it leads. And on its 
farther side are the high plateau plains again, or the 
forests, or the desert, or the great lakes that lie at 
the source of the Nile. 

So now, perhaps, we are a little prepared to go 
ahead. The guide-book work is finished for good 
and all. There is the steaming hot low coast belt, 
and the hot dry thorn desert belt, and the varied 
immense plains, and the high mountain belt of the 
forests, and again the variegated wide country of 
the Rift Valley and the high plateau. To attempt 
to tell you seriatim and in detail just what they are 
like is the task of an encyclopedist. Perhaps more 
indirectly you may be able to fill in the picture of 
the country, the people, and the beasts. 



34 



IV 
THE FIRST CAMP 

OUR very first start into the new country was 
made when we piled out from the little train 
standing patiently awaiting the good pleasure of our 
descent. That feature strikes me with ever new 
wonder — the accommodating way trains of the 
Uganda Railway have of waiting for you. One day, 
at a little wayside station, C. and I were idly exchang- 
ing remarks with the only white man in sight, killing 
time until the engine should whistle to a resumption 
of the journey. The guard lingered about just out 
of earshot. At the end of five minutes C. happened 
to catch his eye, whereupon he ventured to approach. 

"When you have finished your conversation," said 
he politely, "we are all ready to go on." 

On the morning In question there were a lot of us 
to disembark — one hundred and twenty-two, to be 
exact — of which four were white. We were not 
yet acquainted with our men, nor yet with our stores, 
nor with the methods of our travel. The train went 
off and left us in the middle of a high plateau, with 

• 35 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

low ridges running across it, and mountains in the 
distance. Men were squabbling earnestly for the 
most convenient loads to carry, and as fast as they 
had gained undisputed possession, they marked 
the loads with some private sign of their own. 
M'ganga, the headman, tall, fierce, big-framed and 
bony, clad in fez, a long black overcoat, blue put- 
tees and boots, stood stiff as a ramrod, extended a 
rigid right arm and rattled off orders in a high dy- 
namic voice. In his left hand he clasped a bulgy 
umbrella, the badge of his dignity and the symbol 
of his authority. The four askaris, big men too, 
with masterful high - cheekboned countenances, 
rushed here and there seeing that the orders were 
carried out. Expostulations, laughter, the sound of 
quarrelling rose and fell. Never could the combined 
volume of it all override the firecracker stream of 
M'ganga's eloquence. 

We had nothing to do with it all, but stood a little 
dazed, staring at the novel scene. Our men were 
of many tribes, each with its own cast of features, its 
own notions of what befitted man's performance of 
his duties here below. They stuck together each 
in its clan. A fine free individualism of personal 
adornment characterized them. Every man dressed 
for his own satisfaction solely. They hung all sorts 
of things in the distended lobes of their ears. 

36 



THE FIRST CAMP 

One had succeeded In Inserting a fine big glittering 
tobacco tin. Others had Invented elaborate topiary 
designs In their hair, shaving their heads so as to 
leave strange tufts, patches, crescents on the most 
unexpected places. Of the Intricacy qf these de- 
signs they seemed absurdly proud. Various sorts of 
treasure trove hung from them — a bunch of keys 
to which there were no locks, discarded hunting 
knives, tips of antelope horns, discharged brass car- 
tridges, a hundred and one valueless trifles plucked 
proudly from the rubbish heap. They were all 
clothed. We had supplied each with a red blanket, 
a blue jersey, and a water bottle. The blankets 
they were twisting most ingeniously into turbans. 
Beside these they sported a great variety of gar- 
ments. Shooting coats that had seen better days, 
a dozen shabby overcoats — worn proudly through 
the hottest noons — raggety breeches and trousers 
made by some London tailor, queer baggy home- 
mades of the same persuasion, or quite simply the 
square of cotton cloth arranged somewhat like a short 
tight skirt, or nothing at all as the man's taste ran. 
They were many of them amusing enough; but some- 
how they did not look entirely farcical and ridiculous, 
like our negroes putting on airs. All these things 
were worn with a simplicity of quiet confidence 
in their entire fitness. And beneath the red 

37 

t 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

blanket turbans the half-wild savage faces peered 
out. 

Now Mahomet approached. Mahomet was my 
personal boy. He was a Somali from the Northwest 
coast, dusky brown, with the regular clear-cut fea- 
tures of a Greek marble god. His dress was of neat 
khaki, and he looked down on savages; but, also, as 
with all the dark-skinned races, up to his white mas- 
ter. Mahomet was with me during all my African 
stay, and tested out nobly. As yet, of course, I did 
not know him. 

"Chakula taiari," said he. 

That is Swahili. It means literally "food is 
ready." After one has hunted in Africa for a few 
months, it means also "paradise is opened," "grief 
is at an end," "joy and thanksgiving are now in 
order," and similar affairs. Those two words are 
never forgotten, and the veriest beginner in Swahili 
can recognize them without the slightest effort. 

We followed Mahomet. Somehow, without or- 
ders, in all this confusion, the personal staff had been 
quietly and efficiently busy. Drawn a little to one 
side stood a table with four chairs. The table was 
covered with a white cloth, and was set with a beau- 
tiful white enamel service. We took our places. 
Behind each chair straight as a ramrod stood a neat 
khaki-clad boy. They brought us food, and pre- 

38 




'They sported a great variety "M'ganga, the headman, tall, 
of garments." fierce, big framed and bony." 




mm- 



On the march. 




'The blankets they were twisting most ingeniously into 
turbans." 



THE FIRST CAMP 

sented it properly on the left side, waiting like well- 
trained butlers. We might have been in a London 
restaurant. As three of us were Americans, we felt 
a trifle dazed. The porters, having finished the dis- 
tribution of their loads, squatted on their heels and 
watched us respectfully. 

And then, not two hundred yards away, four os- 
triches paced slowly across the track, paying not the 
slightest attention to us — our first real wild os- 
triches, scornful of oranges, careless of tourists, and 
rightful guardians of their own snowy plumes. The 
passage of these four solemn birds seemed somehow 
to lend this strange open-air meal an exotic flavour. 
We were indeed in Africa; and the ostriches helped 
us to realize it. 

We finished breakfast and arose from our chairs. 
Instantly a half dozen men sprang forward. Before 
our amazed eyes the table service, the chairs and 
the table itself disappeared into neat packages. 
M'ganga arose to his feet. 

"Bandika!" he cried. 

The askaris rushed here and there actively. 

"Bandika! bandika! bandika!" they cried re- 
peatedly. 

The men sprang into activity. A struggle heaved 
the varicoloured multitude — and, lo! each man 
stood upright, his load balanced on his head. At 

39 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the same moment the syces led up our horses. We 
mounted and headed across the little plain whence 
had come the four ostriches. Our African journey 
had definitely begun. 

Behind us, all abreast marched the four gunbear- 
ers; then the four syces; then the safari single file, 
an askari at the head bearing proudly his ancient 
musket and our banner, other askaris flanking, 
M'ganga bringing up the rear with his mighty um- 
brella and an unsuspected rhinoceros-hide whip. 
The tent boys and the cook scattered along the 
flank anywhere, as befitted the free and independent 
who had nothing to do with the serious business of 
marching. A measured sound of drumming fol- 
lowed the beating of loads with a hundred sticks; a 
wild, weird chanting burst from the ranks and died 
down again as one or another individual or group 
felt moved to song. One lot had a formal chant and 
response. Their leader, in a high falsetto, said 
something like 

" Kuna koma kuno," 

and all his tribesmen would follow with a single word 
in a deep gruff tone 

" Za-la-nee ! " 

All of which undoubtedly helped immensely 
The country was a bully country, but somehow it 

4« 



THE FIRST CAMP 

did not look like Africa. That is to say, it looked 
altogether too much like any amount of country at 
home. There was nothing strange and exotic about 
it. We crossed a little plain, and up over a small 
hill, down into a shallow canon that seemed to be 
wooded with live oaks, across a grass valley or so, and 
around a grass hill. Then we went into camp at the 
edge of another grass valley, by a stream across 
which rose some ordinary low cliffs. 

That is the disconcerting thing about a whole lot 
of this country — it is so much like home. Of 
course, there are many wide districts exotic enough in 
all conscience — the jungle beds of the rivers, the 
bamboo forests, the great tangled forests themselves, 
the banana groves down the aisles of which dance 
savages with shields — but so very much of it is 
familiar. One needs only church spires and a red- 
roofed village or so to imagine one's self in Surrey. 
There is any amount of country like Arizona, and 
more like the uplands of Wyoming, and a lot of it 
resembling the smaller landscapes of New England. 
The prospects of the whole world are there, so that 
somewhere every wanderer can find the countryside 
of his own home repeated. And, by the same token, 
that is exactly what makes a good deal of it so start- 
ling. When a man sees a file of spear-armed sav- 
ages, or a pair of snorty old rhinos, step out into 

41 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

what has seemed practically his own back yard at 
home, he is even more startled than if he had en- 
countered them in quite strange surroundings. 

We rode into the grass meadow and picked our 
camp site. The men trailed in and dumped down 
their loads in a row. 

At a signal they set to work. A dozen to each 
tent got them up in a jiffy. A long file brought fire- 
wood from the stream bed. Others carried water, 
stones for the cook, a dozen other matters. The 
tent boys rescued our boxes; they put together the 
cots and made the beds, even before the tents were 
raised from the ground. Within an incredibly short 
space of time the three green tents were up and ar- 
ranged, each with its bed made, its mosquito bar 
hung, its personal box open, its folding washstand 
ready with towels and soap, the table and chairs 
unlimbered. At a discreet distance flickered the 
cook campfire, and at a still discreeter distance the 
little tents of the men gleamed pure white against 
the green of the high grass. 



42 




"The great tangled forests themselves." 




3 
O 

(U 



be 

O 



-d 






V 

MEMBA SASA 

I WISH I could plunge you at once Into the excite- 
ments of big game in Africa, but I cannot truth- 
fully do so. To be sure, we went hunting that after- 
noon, up over the low cliffs, and we saw several of a 
very lively little animal known as the Chanler's 
reedbuck. This was not supposed to be a game 
country, and that was all we did see. At these we 
shot several times — • disgracefully. In fact, for 
several days we could not shoot at all, at any range, 
nor at anything. It was very sad, and very ag- 
gravating. Afterward we found that this Is an 
invariable experience to the newcomer. The light 
Is new, the air Is different, the sizes of the game are 
deceiving. Nobody can at first hit anything. At 
the end of five days we suddenly began to shoot our 
normal gait. Why, I do not know. 

But in this afternoon tramp around the low cliffs 
after the elusive reedbuck, I for the first time became 
acquainted with a man who developed Into a real 
friend. 

43 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

His name is Memba Sasa. Memba Sasa are two 
Swahili words meaning "now a crocodile." Sub- 
sequently, after I had learned to talk Swahili, I 
tried to find out what he was formerly, before he was 
a crocodile, but did not succeed. 

He was of the tribe of the Monumwezi, of medium 
height, compactly and sturdily built, carried himself 
very erect, and moved with a concentrated and vig- 
orous purposefulness. His countenance might be 
described as pleasing but not handsome, of a dark 
chocolate brown, with the broad nose of the negro, 
but with a firm mouth, high cheekbones, and a frown- 
ing intentness of brow that was very fine. When you 
talked to him he looked you straight in the eye. 
His own eyes were shaded by long, soft, curling lashes 
behind which they looked steadily and gravely — 
sometimes fiercely — on the world. He rarely 
smiled — never merely in understanding or for 
politeness' sake — and never laughed unless there 
was something really amusing. Then he chuckled 
from deep in his chest, the most contagious laughter 
you can imagine. Often we, at the other end of the 
camp, have laughed in sympathy, just at the sound 
of that deep and hearty ho! ho! ho! of Memba Sasa. 
Even at something genuinely amusing he never 
laughed much, nor without a very definite restraint. 
In fact, about him was no slackness, no sprawling 

44 



MEMBA SASA 

abandon of the native in relaxation; but always a 
taut efficiency and a never-failing self-respect. 

Naturally, behind such a fixed moral fibre must 
always be some moral idea. When a man lives up 
to a real, not a pompous dignity, some ideal must 
inform it. Memba Sasa's ideal was that of the 
Hunter. 

He was a gunbearer; and he considered that a good 
gunbearer stood quite a few notches above any 
other human being, save always the white man, of 
course. And even among the latter Memba Sasa 
made great differences. These differences he kept 
to himself, and treated all with equal respect. 
Nevertheless, they existed, and Memba Sasa very 
well knew that fact. In the white world were two 
classes of masters: those who hunted well, and those 
who were considered by them as their friends and 
equals. Why they should be so considered Memba 
Sasa did not know, but he trusted the Hunter's 
judgment. These were the bzvanas, or masters. 
All the rest were merely mazungos, or, "white men." 
To their faces he called them bwana, but in his heart 
he considered them not. 

Observe, I say those who hunted well. Memba 
Sasa, in his profession as gunbearer, had to accom- 
pany those who hunted badly. In them he took no 
pride; from them he held aloof in spirit; but for them 

45 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

he did his conscientious best, upheld by the dignity of 
his profession. 

For to Memba Sasa that profession was the 
proudest to which a black man could aspire. He 
prided himself on mastering its every detail, in accom- 
plishing its every duty minutely and exactly. The 
major virtues of a gunbearer are not to be despised 
by anybody; for they comprise great physical cour- 
age, endurance, and loyalty: the accomplishments 
of a gunbearer are worthy of a man's best faculties, 
for they include the ability to see and track game, to 
take and prepare properly any sort of a trophy, field 
taxidermy, butchering game meat, wood and plains- 
craft, the knowledge of how properly to care for fire- 
arms in all sorts of circumstances, and a half hundred 
other like minutiae. Memba Sasa knew these things, 
and he performed them with the artist's love for 
details; and his keen eyes were always spying for 
new ways. 

At a certain time I shot an egret, and prepared to 
take the skin. Memba Sasa asked if he might 
watch me do it. Two months later, having killed 
a really gaudy peacocklike member of the guinea 
fowl tribe, I handed it over to him with instructions 
to take off the breast feathers before giving it to the 
cook. In a half hour he brought me the complete 
skin. I examined it carefully, and found it to be well 

46 



MEMBA SASA 

done in every respect. Now in skinning a bird 
there are a number of delicate and unusual opera- 
tions, such as stripping the primary quills from the 
bone, cutting the ear cover, and the like. I had 
explained none of them; and yet Memba Sasa, unas- 
sisted, had grasped their method from a single 
demonstration and had remembered them all two 
months later! C. had a trick in making the second 
skin incision of a trophy head that had the effect of 
giving a better purchase to the knife. Its exact 
description would be out of place here, but it actually 
consisted merely in inserting the point of the knife 
two inches away from the place it is ordinarily in- 
serted. One day we noticed that Memba Sasa was 
making his incisions in that manner. I went to 
Africa fully determined to care for my own rifle. 
The modern high-velocity gun needs rather especial 
treatment; mere wiping out will not do. I found 
that Memba Sasa already knew all about boiling 
water, and the necessity for having it really boiling^ 
about subsequent metal sweating, and all the rest. 
After watching him at work I concluded, rightly, 
that he would do a lot better job than I. 

To the new employer Memba Sasa maintained an 
attitude of strict professional loyalty. His personal 
respect was upheld by the necessity of every man to 
do his job in the world. Memba Sasa did his. He 

47 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

cleaned the rifles; he saw that everything was in 
order for the day's march; he was at my elbow all 
ways with more cartridges and the spare rifle; he 
trailed and looked conscientiously. In his attitude 
was the stolidity of the wooden Indian. No action 
of mine, no joke on the part of his companions, no 
circumstance in the varying fortunes of the field 
gained from him the faintest flicker of either ap- 
proval, disapproval, or interest. When we returned 
to camp he deposited my water bottle and camera, 
seized the cleaning Implements, and departed to his 
own campfire. In the field he pointed out game that 
I did not see, and waited Imperturbably the result 
of my shot. 

As I before stated, the result of that shot for the 
first five days was very apt to be nil. This, at the 
time, puzzled and grieved me a lot. Occasionally I 
looked at Memba Sasa to catch some sign of sym- 
pathy, disgust, contempt, or — rarely — 'triumph 
at a lucky shot. Nothing. He gently but firmly 
took away my rifle, reloaded It, and handed It back; 
then waited respectfully for my next move. He 
knew no English, and I no Swahili. 

But as time went on this attitude changed. I 
was armed with the new Springfield rifle, a weapon 
with 2,700 feet velocity, and with a marvellously 
flat trajectory. This commanding advantage, com- 

48 



MEMBA SASA 

bined with a very long familiarity with firearms, 
enabled me to do some fairish shooting, after the 
strangeness of these new conditions had been mas- 
tered. Memba Sasa began to take a dawning in- 
terest in me as a possible source of pride. We began 
to develop between us a means of comm,unication. 
I set myself deliberately to learn his language, and 
after he had cautiously determined that I really 
meant it, he took the greatest pains — always gravely 
— to teach me. A more human feeling sprang up 
between us. 

But we had still the final test to undergo — that 
of danger and the tight corner. 

In close quarters the gunbearer has the hardest 
job in the world. I have the most profound respect 
for his absolute courage. Even to a man armed and 
privileged to shoot and defend himself, a charging 
lion is an awesome thing, requiring a certain amount 
of coolness and resolution to face effectively. Think 
of the gunbearer at his elbow, depending not on him- 
self but on the courage and coolness of another. He 
cannot do one solitary thing to defend himself. To 
bolt for the safety of a tree is to beg the question 
completely, to brand himself as a shenzi forever; to 
fire a gun in any circumstances is to beg the question 
also, for the white man must be able to depend ab- 
solutely on his second gun in an emergency. Those 

49 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

things are outside consideration, even, of any re- 
spectable gunbearer. In addition, he must keep 
cool. He must see clearly in the thickest excitement; 
must be ready unobtrusively to pass up the second 
gun in the position most convenient for immediate 
use, to seize the other and to perform the finicky task 
of reloading correctly while some rampageous beast 
is raising particular thunder a few yards away. All 
this in absolute dependence on the ability of his 
hwana to deal with the situation. I can confess very 
truly that once or twice that little unobtrusive 
touch of Memba Sasa crouched close to my elbow 
steadied me with the thought of how little right I 
— with a rifle in my hand — had to be scared. And 
the best compliment I ever received I overheard by 
chance. I had wounded a lion when out by myself, 
and had returned to camp for a heavier rifle and 
for Memba Sasa to do the trailing. From my tent I 
overheard the following conversation between Memba 
Sasa and the cook: 

"The grass is high," said the cook. "Are you not 
afraid to go after a wounded lion with only one 
white man.^" 

"My one white man is enough," replied Memba 
Sasa. 

It is a quality of courage that I must confess would 
be quite beyond me — to depend entirely on the 

50 




Memba Sasa 




Chanler's reedbuck. 



MEMBA SASA 

other fellow, and not at all on myself. This cour- 
age is always remarkable to me, even in the case of 
the gunbearer who knows all about the man whose 
heels he follows. But consider that of the gunbearer's 
first experience with a stranger. The former has no 
idea of how the white man will act; whether he will 
get nervous, get actually panicky, lose his shooting 
ability, and generally mess things up. Nevertheless, 
he follows his master in, and he stands by. If the 
hunter fails, the gunbearer will probably die. To 
me it is rather fine: for he does it, not from the per- 
sonal affection and loyalty which will carry men far, 
but from a sheer sense of duty and pride of caste. 
The quiet pride of the really good men, like Memba 
Sasa, is easy to understand. 

And the records are full of stories of the white 
man who has not made good: of the coward who bolts, 
leaving his black man to take the brunt of it, or who 
sticks but loses his head. Each new employer must 
be very closely and interestedly scrutinized. In 
the light of subsequent experience, I can no longer 
wonder at Memba Sasa's first detached and imper- 
sonal attitude. 

As time went on, however, and we grew to know 
each other better, this attitude entirely changed. 
At first the change consisted merely in dropping 
the disinterested pose as respects game. For it was 

SI 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

a pose. Memba Sasa was most keenly interested in 
game whenever it was an object of pursuit. It did 
not matter how common the particular species might 
be: if we wanted it, Memba Sasa would look upon 
it with eager ferocity; and if we did not want it, he 
paid no attention to it at all. When we started in 
the morning, or in the relaxation of our return at 
night, I would mention casually a few of the things 
that might prove acceptable. 

"To-morrow we want kongoni for boys' meat, or 
zebra; and some meat for masters — ^Tommy, im- 
palla, oribi;" and Memba Sasa knew as well as I did 
what we needed to fill out our trophy collection. 
When he caught sight of one of these animals his 
whole countenance changed. The lines of his face 
set, his lips drew back from his teeth, his eyes fairly 
darted fire in the fixity of their gaze. He was like 
a fine pointer dog on birds, or like the splendid sav- 
age he was at heart. 

"M'palla!" he hissed; and then after a second, in 
a restrained fierce voice, "Na-ona? Do you see.?" 

If I did not see he pointed cautiously. His own 
eyes never left the beast. Rarely he stayed put 
while I made the stalk. More often he glided like 
a snake at my heels. If the bullet hit, Memba Sasa 
always exhaled a grunt of satisfaction -~ "hah!" — 
in which triumph and satisfaction mingled with a 

52 



MEMBA SASA 

faint derision at the unfortunate beast. In case of 
a trophy he squatted anxiously at the animal's head 
while I took my measurements, assisting very in- 
telligently with the tape line. When I had finished, 
he always looked up at me with wrinkled brow. 

"Footie n'gapi.'"' he inquired. This means liter- 
ally, "How many ieetV* ; footie being his euphemistic 
invention of a word for the tape. I would tell him 
how many "footie" and how many "inchie" the 
measurement proved to be. From the depths of his 
wonderful memory he would dig up the measurements 
of another beast of the same sort I had killed months 
back, but which he had remembered accurately from 
a single hearing. 

The shooting of a beast he always detailed to his 
few cronies in camp: the other gunbearers, and one 
or two from his own tribe. He always used the 
first person plural, "we" did so and so; and took an 
inordinate pride in making out his bwana as being 
an altogether superior person to any of the other 
gunbearer's hwanas. Over a miss he always looked 
sad; but with a dignified sadness as though we had 
met with undeserved misfortune sent by malignant 
gods. If there were any possible alleviating ex- 
planation, Memba Sasa made the most of it, pro- 
vided our fiasco was witnessed. If we were alone 
in our disgrace, he buried the incident fathoms deep. 

53 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

He took an Inordinate pride in our using the mini- 
mum number of cartridges, and would explain to me 
in a loud tone of voice that we had cartridges enough 
in the belt. When we had not cartridges enough, he 
would sneak around after dark to get some more. 
At times he would even surreptitiously "lift" a few 
from B.'s gunbearer! 

When in camp, with his "cazi" finished, Memba 
Sasa did fancy work! The picture of this powerful 
half-savage, his fierce brows bent over a tiny piece 
of linen, his strong fingers fussing with little stitches, 
v/ill always appeal to my sense of the incongruous. 
Through a piece of linen he punched holes with a 
porcupine quill. Then he "buttonhole" stitched 
the holes, and embroidered patterns between them 
with fine white thread. The result was an open- 
work pattern heavily encrusted with beautiful 
fine embroidery. It was most astounding stuff, 
such as you would expect from a French convent, 
perhaps, but never from an African savage. He did 
a circular piece and a long narrow piece. They took 
him three months to finish, and then he sewed them 
together to form a skull cap. Billy, entranced with 
the lacelike delicacy of the work, promptly captured 
it; whereupon Memba Sasa philosophically started 
another. 

By this time he had identified himself with my for- 

54 



MEMBA SASA 

tunes. We had become a firm whose business It 
was to carry out the affairs of a single personality — 
me. Memba Sasa, among other things, undertook 
the dignity. When I walked through a crowd, 
Memba Sasa zealously kicked everybody out of my 
royal path. When I started to issue a command, 
Memba Sasa finished it and amplified it and put a 
snapper on it. When I came into camp, Memba 
Sasa saw to it personally that my tent went up 
promptly and properly, although that was really not 
part of his "cazi" at all. And when somewhere be- 
yond my ken some miserable boy had committed 
a crime, I never remained long in ignorance of that 
fact. 

Perhaps I happened to be sitting in my folding 
chair idly smoking a pipe and reading a book. 
Across the open places of the camp would stride 
Memba Sasa, very erect, very rigid, moving in short 
indignant jerks, his eye flashing fire. Behind him 
would sneak a very hang-dog boy. Memba Sasa 
marched straight up to me, faced right, and drew one 
side, his silence sparkling with honest Indignation. 

"Just look at thatr' his attitude seemed to say. 
"Could you believe such human depravity possible.'^ 
And against our authority!" 

He always stood, quite rigid, waiting for me to 
speak. 

55 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

"Well, Memba Sasa?" I would inquire, after I had 
enjoyed the show a little. 

In a few restrained words he put the case before 
me, always briefly, always with a scornful dignity. 
This shenzi has done so-and-so. 

We will suppose the case fairly serious. I lis- 
tened to the man's story, if necessary called a few 
witnesses, delivered judgment. All the while Mem- 
ba Sasa stood at rigid attention, fairly bristling vir- 
tue, like the good dog standing by at the punishment 
of the bad dogs. And in his attitude was a subtle 
triumph, as one would say: "You see! Fool with 
my bwana, will you! Just let anybody try to get 
funny with wj.'" Judgment pronounced — we 
have supposed the case serious, you remember — 
Memba Sasa himself applied the lash. I think he 
really enjoyed that; but it was a restrained joy. 
The whip descended deliberately, without excite- 
ment. 

The man's devotion in unusual circumstances was 
beyond praise. Danger or excitement incite a sort 
of loyalty in any good man; but humdrum, dis- 
agreeable difficulty is a different matter. 

One day we marched over a country of thorn-scrub 
desert. Since two days we had been cut loose from 
water, and had been depending on a small amount 
carried in zinc drums. Now our only reasons for 

56 



MEMBA SASA 

faring were a conical hill, over the horizon, and the 
knowledge of a river somewhere beyond. How far 
beyond, or in what direction, we did not know. We 
had thirty men with us, a more or less ragtag lot, 
picked up anyhow in the bazaars. They were soft, 
ill-disciplined and uncertain. For five or six hours 
they marched well enough. Then the sun began to 
get very hot, and some of them began to straggle. 
They had, of course, no intention of deserting, for 
their only hope of surviving lay in staying with us; 
but their loads had become heavy, and they took too 
many rests. We put a good man behind, but with- 
out much avail. In open country a safari can be 
permitted to straggle over miles, for always it can 
keep in touch by sight; but in this thorn-scrub des- 
ert, that looks all alike, a man fifty yards out of 
sight is fifty yards lost. We would march fifteen 
or twenty minutes, then sit down to wait until the 
rearmost men had straggled in, perhaps a half hour 
later. And we did not dare move on until the tale 
of our thirty was complete. At this rate progress 
was very slow, and as the fierce equatorial sun in- 
creased in strength, became always slower still. The 
situation became alarming. We were quite out of 
water, and we had no idea where water was to be 
found. To complicate matters, the thornbrush 
thickened to a jungle. 

57 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

M.y single companion and I consulted. It was 
agreed that I was to push on as rapidly as possible 
to locate the water, while he was to try to hold the 
caravan together. Accordingly, Memba Sasa and 
I marched ahead. We tried to leave a trail to fol- 
low; and we hoped fervently that our guess as to 
the stream's course would prove to be a good one. 
At the end of two hours and a half we found 
the water — a beautiful jungle-shaded stream 
— and filled ourselves up therewith. Our duty 
was accomplished, for we had left a trail to 
be followed. Nevertheless, I felt I should like to 
take back our full canteens to relieve the worst 
cases. Memba Sasa would not hear of it, and 
even while I was talking to him seized the canteens 
and disappeared. 

At the end of two hours more camp was made, after 
a fashion; but still four men had failed to come in. 
We built a smudge in the hope of guiding them; and 
gave them up. If they had followed our trail, they 
should have been in long ago; if they had missed that 
trail, heaven knows where they were, or where we 
should go to find them. Dusk was falling, and, to 
tell the truth, we were both very much done up by a 
long day at 115 degrees in the shade under an equa- 
torial sun. The missing men would climb trees 
away from the beasts, and we would organize a 

58 



MEMBA SASA 

search next day. As we debated these things, to us 
came Memba Sasa. 

"I want to take 'Winchi,'" said he. "Winchi" 
is his name for my Winchester 405. 

"Why?" we asked. 

"If I can take Winchi, I will find the men," said 
he. 

This was entirely voluntary on his part. He, as 
well as we, had had a hard day, and he had made 
a double journey for part of it. We gave him Winchi 
and he departed. Sometime after midnight he re- 
turned with the missing men. 

Perhaps a dozen times all told he volunteered 
for these special services; once in particular, after a 
fourteen-hour day, he set off at nine o'cock at night 
in a soaking rainstorm, wandered until two o'clock, 
and returned unsuccessful, to rouse me and report 
gravely that he could not find them. For these 
services he neither received nor expected special 
reward. And catch him doing anything outside his 
strict "cazi" except for us. 

We were always very ceremonious and dignified 
in our relations on such occasions. Memba Sasa 
would suddenly appear, deposit the rifle in its place, 
and stand at attention. 

"Well, Memba Sasa?" I would inquire. 

"I have found the men; they are in camp." 

59 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Then I would give him his reward. It was either 
the word "assanti," or the two words "assanti sana," 
according to the difficulty and importance of the 
task accomplished. They mean simply "thank 
you" and "thank you very much." 

Once or twice, after a particularly long and diffi- 
cult month or so, when Memba Sasa has been al- 
most literally my alter ego, I have called him up for 
special praise. "I am very pleased with you, 
Memba Sasa," said I. "You have done your cazi 
well. You are a good man." 

He accepted this with dignity, without depre- 
cation, and without the idiocy of spoken gratitude. 
He agreed perfectly with everything I said! "Yes" 
was his only comment. I liked it. 

On our ultimate success in a difficult enterprise 
Memba Sasa set great store; and his delight in 
ultimate success was apparently quite apart from 
personal considerations. We had been hunting 
greater kudu for five weeks before we finally landed 
one. The greater kudu is, with the bongo, easily the 
prize beast in East Africa, and very few are shot. 
By a piece of bad luck, for him, I had sent Memba 
Sasa out in a different direction to look for signs the 
afternoon we finally got one. The kill was made 
just at dusk. C. and I, Avith Mavrouki, built a fire 
and stayed, while Kongoni v/ent to camp after men. 

60 



MEMBA SASA 

There he broke the news to Memba Sasa that the 
great prize had been captured, and he absent! 
Memba Sasa was hugely delighted, nor did he In any 
way show what must have been a great disappoint- 
ment to him. After repeating the news trium- 
phantly to every one in camp, he came out to where 
we were waiting, arrived quite out of breath, and 
grabbed me by the hand in heartiest congratula- 
tion. 

Memba Sasa went in not at all for personal or- 
namentation, any more than he allowed his dignity 
to be broken by anything resembling emotionalism. 
No tattoo marks, no ear ornaments, no rings nor 
bracelets. He never even picked up an ostrich 
feather for his head. On the latter he sometimes wore 
an old felt hat; sometimes, more picturesquely, an 
orange-coloured fillet. Khaki shirt, khaki "shorts," 
blue puttees, besides his knife and my own accoutre- 
ments: that was all. In town he was all white clad, 
a long fine linen robe reaching to his feet; and one of 
the lacelike skull caps he was so very skilful at mak- 
ing. 

That will do for a preliminary sketch. If you 
follow these pages, you will hear more of him; and 
he is worth it. 



6i 



VI 

THE FIRST GAME CAMP 

IN THE review of "first" impressions with which 
we are concerned, we must now skip a week or 
ten days to stop at what is known in our diaries as 
the First Ford of the Guaso Nyero River. 

These ten days were not uneventful. We had 
crossed the wide and undulating plains, had paused 
at some tall beautiful falls plunging several hundred 
feet into the mysteriousness of a dense forest on 
which we looked down. There we had enjoyed some 
duck, goose and snipe shooting; had made the ac- 
quaintance of a few of the Masai, and had looked 
with awe on our first hippo tracks in the mud beside 
a tiny ditchlike stream. Here and there were small 
game herds. In the light of later experience we now 
realize that these were nothing at all; but at the time 
the sight of full-grown wild animals out in plain sight 
was quite wonderful. At the close of the day's 
march we always wandered out with our rifles to see 
what we could find. Everything was new to us, and 
we had our men to feed. Our shooting gradually 

62 









<»v 



i« 



Jackson's hartebeest. 




' ,!WS^Yej«ri^", <^Ji.r J-'4lMfeEfii^^^ 



The oryx 




m^m 



"The motionless and picturesque figure of Saa-Sita 
(six-o'clock)." 



THE FIRST GAME CAMP 

improved until we had overcome the difficulties 
peculiar to this new country and were doing as well 
as we could do anywhere. 

Now, at the end of a hard day through scrub, over 
rolling bold hills, and down a scrub brush slope, we 
had reached the banks of the Guaso Nyero. 

At this point, above the junction of its principal 
tributary rivers, it was a stream about sixty or sev- 
enty feet wide, flowing swift between high banks. A 
few trees marked its course, but nothing like a jungle. 
The ford was in swift water just above a deep still 
pool suspected of crocodiles. We found the water 
about waist deep, stretched a rope across, and for- 
cibly persuaded our eager boys that one at a time 
was about what the situation required. On the 
other side we made camp on an open flat. Having 
marched so far continuously, we resolved to settle 
down for a while. The men had been without suf- 
ficient meat; and we desired very much to look over 
the country closely, and to collect a few heads as 
trophies. 

Perhaps a word might not come amiss as to the 
killing of game. The case is here quite different 
from the condition of affairs at home. Here animal 
life is most extraordinarily abundant; It furnishes the 
main food supply to the traveller; and at present is 
probably increasing slightly, certainly holding its 

63 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

own. Whatever toll the sportsman or traveller takes 
is as nothing compared to what he might take if he 
were an unscrupulous game hog. If his cartridges 
and his shoulder held out, he could easily kill a 
hundred animals a day instead of the few he re- 
quires. In that sense, then, no man slaughters in- 
discriminately. During the course of a year he 
probably shoots from two hundred to two hundred 
and fifty beasts, provided he is travelling with an 
ordinary sized caravan. This, the experts say, is 
about the annual toll of one lion. If the traveller 
gets his lion, he plays even with the fauna of the 
country; if he gets two or more lions, he has some- 
thing to his credit. This probably explains why the 
game is still so remarkably abundant near the rail- 
road and on the very outskirts of the town. 

We were now much in need of a fair quantity of 
meat, both for immediate consumption of our safari, 
and to make biltong or jerky. Later, in like cir- 
cumstances, we should have sallied forth in a busi- 
nesslike fashion, dropped the requisite number of 
zebra and hartebeeste as near camp as possible, and 
called it a job. Now, however, being new to the 
game, we much desired good trophies in variety. 
Therefore, we scoured the country far and wide for 
desirable heads; and the meat waited upon the ac- 
quisition of the trophy. 

64 







Notata gazelle. 



m 



^.s ^ 




"Tall beautiful falls plunging several hundred feet into 
the forest." 



THE FIRST GAME CAMP 

This, then, might be called our first Shooting 
Camp. Heretofore we had travelled every day. 
Now the boys settled down to what the native por- 
ter considers the height of bliss: a permanent camp 
with plenty to eat. 

Each morning we were off before daylight, riding 
our horses, and followed by the gunbearers, the syces, 
and fifteen or twenty porters. The country rose 
from the river in a long gentle slope grown with 
low brush and scattered candlestick euphorbias. 
This slope ended in a scattered range of low rocky 
buttes. Through any one of the various openings 
between them, we rode to find ourselves on the bor- 
ders of an undulating grass country of low rounded 
hills with wide valleys winding between them. In 
these valleys and on these hills was the game. 

Daylight of the day I would tell about found us 
just at the edge of the little buttes. Down one of 
the slopes the growing half light revealed two oryx 
feeding, magnificent big creatures, with straight 
rapier horns three feet in length. These were most 
exciting and desirable, so off my horse I got and be- 
gan to sneak up on them through the low tufts of 
grass. They fed quite calmly. I congratulated my- 
self, and slipped nearer. Without even looking in 
my direction, they trotted away. Somewhat cha- 
grined, I returned to my companions, and we rode on. 

65 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Then across a mile-wide valley we saw two dark 
objects in the tall grass; and almost immediately 
identified these as rhinoceroses, the first we had seen. 
They stood there side by side, gazing ofi" into space, 
doing nothing in a busy morning world. After 
staring at them through our glasses for some time, 
we organized a raid. At the bottom of the valley 
we left the horses and porters; lined up, each with his 
gunbearer at his elbow; and advanced on the enemy. 
B. was to have the shot. According to all the books 
we should have been able, provided we were down- 
wind and made no noise, to have approached within 
fifty or sixty yards undiscovered. However, at a 
little over a hundred yards they both turned tail and 
departed at a swift trot, their heads held well up and 
their tails sticking up straight and stiff in the most 
ridiculous fashion. No good shooting at them in 
such circumstances, so we watched them go, still 
keeping up their slashing trot, growing smaller and 
smaller in the distance until finally they disappeared 
over the top of a swell. 

We set ourselves methodically to following them. 
It took us over an hour of steady plodding before we 
again came in sight of them. They were this time 
nearer the top of a hill, and we saw instantly that 
the curve of the slope was such that we could ap- 
proach within fifty yards before coming in sight at 

66 



THE FIRST GAME CAMP 

all. Therefore, once more we dismounted, lined up 
in battle array, and advanced. 

Sensations? Distinctly nervous, decidedly alert, 
and somewhat self-congratulatory that I was not 
more scared. No man can predicate how efficient 
he is going to be in the presence of really dangerous 
game. Only the actual trial will show. This is not 
a question of courage at all, but of purely involuntary 
reaction of the nerves. Very few men are physical 
cowards. They will and do face anything. But a 
great many men are rendered inefficient by the way 
their nervous systems act under stress. It is not a 
matter for control by will power in the slightest de- 
gree. So the big game hunter must determine by 
actual trial whether it so happens that the great ex- 
citement of danger renders his hand shaky or steady. 
The excitement in either case is the same. No man 
is ever "cool" in the sense that personal danger is 
of the same kind of indifference to him as clambering 
aboard a street car. He must always be lifted above 
himself, must enter an extra normal condition to 
meet extra normal circumstances. He can always 
control his conduct; but he can by no means always 
determine the way the inevitable excitement will 
affect his coordinations. And unfortunately, in the 
final result it does not matter how brave a man is, but 
how closely he can hold. If he finds that his ner- 

67 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

vous excitement renders him unsteady, he has no 
business ever to tackle dangerous game alone. If, 
on the other hand, he discovers that identically the 
same nervous excitement happens to steady his front 
sight to rocklike rigidity — a rigidity he could not 
possibly attain in normal conditions — then he will 
probably keep out of trouble. 

To amplify this further by a specific instance: I 
hunted for a short time in Africa with a man who 
was always eager for exciting encounters, whose 
pluck was admirable in every way, but whose ner- 
vous reaction so manifested itself that he was ut- 
terly unable to do even decent shooting at any range. 
Furthermore, his very judgment and power of ob- 
servation were so obscured that he could not re- 
member afterward with any accuracy what had 
happened — which way the beast was pointing, how 
many there were of them, in which direction they 
went, how many shots were fired, in short all the 
smaller details of the affair. He thought he 
remembered. After the show was over it was 
quite amusing to get his version of the incident. 
It was almost always so wide of the fact as to 
be little recognizable. And, mind you, he was 
perfectly sincere in his belief, and absolutely 
courageous. Only he was quite unfitted by 
physical make-up for a big game hunter; and I was 

68 



THE FIRST GAME CAMP 

relieved when, after a short time, his route and 
mine separated. 

Well, we clambered up that slope with a fine com- 
pound of tension, expectation, and latent uneasiness 
as to just what was going to happen, anyway. 
Finally, we raised the backs of the beasts, stooped, 
sneaked a little nearer, and finally at a signal stood 
upright perhaps forty yards from the brutes. 

For the first time I experienced a sensation I was 
destined many times to repeat — that of the sheer 
size of the animals. Menagerie rhinoceroses had 
been of the smaller Indian variety; and in any case 
most menagerie beasts are more or less stunted. 
These two, facing us, their little eyes blinking, looked 
like full-grown ironclads on dry land. The moment 
we stood erect B. fired at the larger of the two. In- 
stantly they turned and were off at a tearing run. 
I opened fire, and B. let loose his second barrel. At 
about two hundred and fifty yards the big rhinoceros 
suddenly fell on his side, while the other continued 
his flight. It was all over — very exciting because 
we got excited, but not in the least dangerous. 

The boys were delighted, for here was meat in 
plenty for everybody. We measured the beast, 
photographed him, marvelled at his immense size, 
and turned him over to the gunbearers for treatment. 
In half an hour or so a long string of porters headed 

69 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

across the hills In the direction of camp, many miles 
distant, each carrying his load either of meat, or the 
trophies. Rhinoceros hide, properly treated, becomes 
as transparent as amber, and so from it can be 
made many very beautiful souvenirs, such as bowls, 
trays, paper knives, table tops, whips, canes, and 
the like. And, of course, the feet of one's first 
rhino are always saved for cigar boxes or inkstands. 
Already we had an admiring and impatient au- 
dience. From all directions came the carrion birds. 
They circled far up in the heavens; they shot down- 
ward like plummets from a great height with an 
inspiring roar of wings; they stood thick in a solemn 
circle all around the scene of the kill; they rose with 
a heavy flapping when we moved in their direction. 

Skulking forms flashed in the grass, and occasionally 

. . . . i 

the pointed ears of a jackal would rise inquiringly.^ 

It was by now nearly noon. The sun shone clear^ 
and hot; the heat shimmer rose in clouds from the 
brown surface of the hills. In all directions we could 
make out small gameherds resting motionless in the 
heat of the day, the mirage throwing them Into fan- 
tastic shapes. While the final disposition was being 
made of the defunct rhinoceros I wandered over the 
edge of the hill to see what I could see, and fairly 
blundered on a herd of oryx at about a hundred and 
fifty yards range. They looked at me a startled 

70 



THE FIRST GAME CAMP 

Instant, then leaped away to the left at a tremendous 
speed. By a lucky shot, I bowled one over. He 
was a beautiful beast, with his black and white face 
and his straight rapierlike horns nearly three feet 
long, and I was most pleased to get him. Memba 
Sasa came running at the sound of the shot. We set 
about preparing the head. 

Then through a gap in the hills far to the left we 
saw a little black speck moving rapidly in our direc- 
tion. At the end of a minute we could make it 
out as the second rhinoceros. He had run heaven 
knows how many miles away, and now he was 
returning; whether with some idea of rejoining his 
companion or from sheer chance, I do not know. 
At any rate, here he was, still ploughing along at his 
swinging trot. His course led him along a side hill 
about four hundred yards from where the oryx lay. 
When he was directly opposite I took the Spring- 
field and fired, not at him, but at a spot five or six 
feet in front of his nose. The bullet threw up a 
column of dust. Rhino brought up short with as- 
tonishment, wheeled to the left, and made off at a 
gallop. I dropped another bullet in front of him. 
Again he stopped, changed direction, and made off. 
For the third time I hit the ground in front of him. 
Then he got angry, put his head down and charged 
the spot. Five more shots I expended on the amuse- 

71 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ment of that rhinoceros; and at the last had him 
furiously charging back and forth in a twenty-yard 
space, very angry at the little puffing, screeching bul- 
lets, but quite unable to catch one. Then he made 
up his mind and departed the way he had come, 
finally disappearing as a little rapidly moving black 
speck through the gap in the hills where we had first 
caught sight of him. 

We finished caring for the oryx, and returned to 
camp. To our surprise we found we were at least 
seven or eight miles out. 

In this fashion days passed very quickly. The 
early dewy start in the cool of the morning, the grad- 
ual grateful warming up of sunrise, and immedi- 
ately after, the rest during the midday heats under a 
shady tree, the long trek back to camp at sunset, the 
hot bath after the toilsome day — all these were 
very pleasant. Then the swift falling night, and the 
gleam of many tiny fires springing up out of the 
darkness; with each its sticks full of meat roasting, 
and its little circle of men, their skins gleaming in 
the light. As we sat smoking, we would become 
aware that M'ganga, the headman, was standing 
silent awaiting orders. Some one would happen to 
see the white of his eyes, or perhaps he might smile 
so that his teeth would become visible. Otherwise 
he might stand there an hour, and no one the wiser, 

72 



THE FIRST GAME CAMP 

for he was respectfully silent, and exactly the colour 
of the night. 

We would indicate to him our plans for the mor- 
row, and he would disappear. Then at a distance of 
twenty or thirty feet from the front of our tents a 
tiny tongue of flame would lick up. Dark figures 
could be seen manipulating wood. A blazing fire 
sprang up, against which we could see the motionless 
and picturesque figure of Saa-sita (Six o'Clock), the 
askari of the first night watch, leaning on his musket. 
He was a most picturesque figure, for his fancy ran 
to original headdresses, and at the moment he af- 
fected a wonderful upstanding structure made of 
marabout wings. 

At this sign that the night had begun, we turned 
in. A few hyenas moaned, a few jackals barked: 
otherwise the first part of the night was silent, for 
the hunters were at their silent business, and the 
hunted were "layin' low and sayin' nuffin'." 

Day after day we rode out, exploring the country 
in different directions. The great uncertainty as 
to what of interest we would find filled the hours 
with charm. Sometimes we clambered about the 
clifi"s of the buttes trying to find klip-springers; again 
we ran miles pursuing the gigantic eland. I in 
turn got my first rhinoceros, with no more danger 
than had attended the illing of B.'s. On this oc- 

73 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

casion, however, I had my first experience of the 
lightning skill of the first-class gunbearer. Having 
fired both barrels, and staggered the beast, I threw 
open the breech and withdrew the empty cartridges, 
intending, of course, as my next move to fish two 
more out of my belt. The empty shells were hardly 
away from the chambers, however, when a long 
brown arm shot over my right shoulder and popped 
two fresh cartridges in the breech. So astonished 
was I at this unexpected apparition, that for a sec- 
ond or so I actually forgot to close the gun. 



74 



VII 

ON THE MARCH 

AFTER leaving the First Game Camp, we trav- 
elled many hours and miles over rolling hills 
piling ever higher and higher until they broke 
through a pass to illimitable plains. These plains 
were mantled with the dense scrub, looking from a 
distance and from above like the nap of soft green 
velvet. Here and there this scrub broke in round or 
oval patches of grass plain. Great mountain ranges 
peered over the edge of a horizon. Lesser moun- 
tain peaks of fantastic shapes — sheer Yosemite cliffs, 
single buttes, castles — • had ventured singly from be- 
hind that same horizon barricade. The course of a 
river was marked by a meandering line of green 
jungle. 

It took us two days to get to that river. Our in- 
termediate camp was halfway down the pass. We 
ousted a hundred indignant straw-coloured monkeys 
and twice as many baboons from the tiny flat above 
the water hole. They bobbed away cursing over 
their shoulders at us. Next day we debouched on 

75 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the plains. They were rolling, densely grown, cov- 
ered with volcanic stones, swarming with game of 
various sorts. The men marched well. They were 
happy, for they had had a week of meat; and each 
carried a light lunch of sun-dried biltong or jerky. 
Some mistaken individuals had attempted to bring 
along some "fresh" meat. We found it advisable 
to pass to windward of these; but they themselves 
did not seem to mind. 

It became very hot; for we were now descending 
to the lower elevations. The marching through 
long grass and over volcanic stones was not easy. 
Shortly we came out on stumbly hills, mostly rock, 
very dry, grown with cactus and discouraged desic- 
cated thorn scrub. Here the sun reflected powerfully 
and the bearers began to flag. 

Then suddenly, without warning, we pitched over 
a little rise to the river. 

No more marvellous contrast could have been 
devised. From the blasted barren scrub country 
we plunged into the lush jungle. It was not a very 
wide jungle, but it was sufficient. The trees were 
large and variegated, reaching to a high and spacious 
upper story above the ground tangle. From the 
massive limbs hung vines, festooned and looped 
like great serpents. Through this upper corridor 
flitted birds of bright hue or striking variegation. 

76 



ON THE MARCH 

We did not know many of them by name, nor did 
we desire to; but were content with the impression 
of vivid flashing movement and colour. Various 
monkeys swung, leaped and galloped slowly away 
before our advance; pausing to look back at us 
curiously, the ruffs of fur standing out all around 
their little black faces. The lower half of the forest 
jungle, however, had no spaciousness at all, but a 
certain breathless intimacy. Great leaved plants 
as tall as little trees, and trees as small as big plants, 
bound together by vines, made up the "deep im- 
penetrable jungle" of our childhood imagining. 
Here were rustlings, sudden scurryings, half-caught 
glimpses, once or twice a crash as some greater 
animal made off. Here and there through the thicket 
wandered well beaten trails, wide, but low, so that 
to follow them one would have to bend double. 
These were the paths of rhinoceroses. The air smelt 
warm and moist and earthy, like the odour of a 
greenhouse. 

We skirted this jungle until it gave way to let 
the plain down to the river. Then, in an open grove 
of acacias, and fairly on the river's bank, we pitched 
our tents. 

These acacia trees were very noble big chaps, with 
many branches and a thick shade. In their season 
they are wonderfuUv blossomed with white, with 

77 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

yellow, sometimes even with vivid red flowers. Be- 
neath them was only a small matter of ferns to clear 
away. 

Before us the sodded bank rounded off ten feet to 
the river itself. At this point far up in its youth it 
was a friendly river. Its noble width ran over shal- 
lows of yellow sand or of small pebbles. Save for 
unexpected deep holes one could wade across it 
anywhere. Yet it was very wide, with still reaches 
of water, with islands of gigantic papyrus, with sand 
bars dividing the current, and with always the vista 
for a greater or lesser distance down through the 
jungle along its banks. From our canvas chairs we 
could look through on one side to the arid country, 
and on the other to this tropical wonderland. 

Yes, at this point in its youth it was indeed a 
friendly river in every sense of the word. There are 
three reasons, ordinarily, why one cannot bathe in 
the African rivers. In the first place, they are nearly 
all disagreeably muddy; in the second place, cold 
water in a tropical climate causes horrible conges- 
tions; in the third place they swarm with crocodiles 
and hippos. But this river was as yet unpolluted 
by the alluvial soil of the lower countries; the sun 
on its shallows had warmed its waters almost to 
blood heat; and the beasts found no congenial haunts 
in these clear shoals. Almost before our tents were 

78 



ON THE MARCH 

up the men were splashing. And always my mental 
image of that river's beautiful expanse must include 
round black heads floating like gourds where the 
water ran smoothest. 

Our tents stood all in a row facing the stream, the 
great trees at their backs. Down in the grove the 
men had pitched their little white shelters. Hap- 
pily they settled down to ease. Settling down to 
ease, in the case of the African porter, consists in 
discarding as many clothes as possible. While on 
the march he wears everything he owns; whether 
from pride or a desire to simplify transportation I am 
unable to say. He is supplied by his employer with 
a blanket and jersey. As supplemental he can 
generally produce a half dozen white man's ill-as- 
sorted garments: an old shooting coat, a ragged pair 
of khaki breeches, a kitchen tablecloth for a skirt, or 
something of the sort. If he can raise an overcoat 
he is happy, especially if it happen to be a long, thick 
winter overcoat. The possessor of such a garment 
will wear it conscientiously throughout the longest 
journey and during the hottest noons. But when 
he relaxes in camp, he puts away all these prideful 
possessions and turns out in the savage simplicity 
of his red blanket. Draped negligently, sometimes 
very negligently, in what may be termed semi-toga 
fashion, he stalks about or squats before his little 

79 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

fire in all the glory of a regained savagery. The 
contrast of the red with his red bronze or black skin, 
the freedom and grace of his movements, the up- 
right carriage of his fine figure, and the flickering 
savagery playing in his eyes are very effective. 

Our men occupied their leisure variously and hap- 
pily. A great deal of time they spent before their 
tiny fires roasting meat and talking. This talk was 
almost invariably of specific personal experiences. 
They bathed frequently and with pleasure. They 
slept. Between times they fashioned ingenious 
affairs of ornament or use: bows and arrows, throw- 
ing clubs, snuff-boxes of the tips of antelope horns, 
bound prettily with bright wire, wooden swords 
beautifully carved in exact imitation of the white 
man's service weapon, and a hundred other such 
affairs. At this particular time also they were much 
occupied in making sandals against the thorns. These 
were flat soles of rawhide, the edges pounded to 
make them curl up a trifle over the foot, fastened by 
thongs; very ingenious, and very useful. To their 
task they brought song. The labour of Africa is 
done to song; weird minor chanting starting high in 
the falsetto to trickle unevenly down to the lower 
registers, or where the matter is one of serious effort, 
an antiphony of solo and chorus. From all parts of 
the camp come these softly modulated chantings, 

80 



♦ 



4 



a 
a, 



■V- 






o 











a 
o 

c 

a 



ON THE MARCH 

low and sweet, occasionally breaking into full voice 
as the inner occasion swells, then almost immediately 
falling again to the murmuring undertone of more 
concentrated attention. 

The red blanket was generally worn knotted from 
one shoulder or bound around the waist Malay 
fashion. When it turned into a cowl, with a miserable 
and humpbacked expression, it became the Official 
Badge of Illness. No matter what was the matter 
that was the proper thing to do — to throw the 
blanket over the head and to assume as miserable a 
demeanour as possible. A sore toe demanded just 
as much concentrated woe as a case of pneumonia. 

Sick call was cried after the day's work was 
finished. Then M'ganga or one of the askaris lifted 
up his voice. 

"N'gonjwa! n'gonjvv^a!" he shouted; and at the 
shout the red cowls gathered in front of the tent. 

Three things were likely to be the matter: too 
much meat, fever, or pus infection from slight 
wounds. To these in the rainy season would be added 
the various sorts of colds. That meant either Epsom 
salts, quinine, or a little excursion with the lancet and 
permanganate. The African traveller gets to be 
heap big medicine man within these narrow limits. 

All the red cowls squatted miserably, oh, very 
miserably, in a row. The headman stood over them 

8i 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

rather fiercely. We surveyed the lot contempla- 
tively, hoping to heaven that nothing complicated 
was going to turn up. One of the tent boys hovered 
in the background as dispensing chemist. 

"Well," said F. at last, "what's the matter with 
you.?" 

The man Indicated pointed to his head and the 
back of his neck and groaned. If he had a slight 
headache he groaned just as much as though his 
head were splitting. F. asked a few questions, and 
took his temperature. The clinical thermometer is 
in itself considered big medicine, and often does 
much good. 

"Too much meat, my friend," remarked F. in 
English, and to his boy In Swahili, "bring the cup." 

He put in this cup a triple dose of Epsom salts. 
The African requires three times a white man's 
dose. This, pathologically, was all that was re- 
quired: but psychologically the job was just begun. 
Your African can do wonderful things with his im- 
agination. If he thinks he is going to die, die he 
will, and very promptly, even though he is ailing 
of the most trivial complaint. If he thinks he is 
going to get well, he is very apt to do so in face of 
extraordinary odds. Therefore the white man de- 
sires not only to start his patient's Internal economy 
with Epsom salts, but also to stir his faith. To this 

82 



ON THE MARCH 

end F. added to that triple dose of medicine a spoon- 
ful of Chutney, one of Worcestershire sauce, a few- 
grains of quinine, Sparklets water and a crystal or 
so of permanganate to turn the mixture a beautiful 
pink. This assortment the patient drank with 
gratitude — and the tears running down his 
cheeks. 

"He will carry a load to-morrow," F. told the at- 
tentive M'ganga. 

The next patient had fever. This one got twenty 
grains of quinine in water. 

"This man carries no load to-morrow," was the 
direction, "but he must not drop behind." 

Two or three surgical cases followed. Then a big 
Kavirondo rose to his feet. 

"Nini?" demanded F. 

"Homa — fever," whined the man. 

F. clapped his hand on the back of the other's neck. 

"I think," he remarked contemplatively in Eng- 
lish, "that you're a liar, and want to get out of 
carrying your load." 

The clinical thermometer showed no evidence of 
temperature. 

"I'm pretty near sure you're a liar," observed F. 
in the pleasantest conversational tone and still in 
English, "but you may be merely a poor diagnos- 
tician. Perhaps your poor insides couldn't get away 

83 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

with that rotten meat I saw you lugging around. 
We'll see." 

So he mixed a pint of medicine. 

"There's Epsom salts for the real part of your 
trouble," observed F., still talking to himself, "and 
here's a few things for the fake." 

He then proceeded to concoct a mixture whose 
recoil was the exact measure of his imagination. 
The imagination was only limited by the necessity 
of keeping the mixture harmless. Every hot, biting, 
nauseous horror in camp went into that pint measure. 

"There," concluded F., "if you drink that and 
come back again to-morrow for treatment, I'll be- 
lieve you are sick." 

Without undue pride I would like to record that I 
was the first to think of putting in a peculiarly 
nauseous gun oil, and thereby acquired a reputation 
of making tremendous medicine. 

So implicit is this faith in white man's medicine 
that at one of the Government posts we were ap- 
proached by one of the secondary chiefs of the dis- 
trict. He was a very nifty savage, dressed for call- 
ing, with his hair done in ropes like a French poo- 
dle's, his skin carefully oiled and reddened, his arm- 
lets and necklets polished, and with the ceremonial 
ball of black feathers on the end of his long spear. 
His gait was the peculiar mincing teeter of savage 

84 




'A great deal of time they spent before their tiny tires 
roasting meat and talking." 




"Distributing 'potio' or rations to the men." 




On the Northern Ciuaso Xyero River. 





'^^0^.' 




"At this point far up in its youth it was a friendly river. 



ON THE MARCH 

conventional society. According to custom, he 
approached unsmiling, spat carefully in his palm, 
and shook hands. Then he squatted and waited. 

"What is it?" we asked after it became evident 
he really wanted something besides the pleasure of 
our company. 

"N'dowa — medicine," said he. 

"Why do you not go the Government dispen- 
sary.^" we demanded. 

"The doctor there is an Indian; I want real medi- 
cine, white man's medicine," he explained. 

Immensely flattered, of course, we wanted further 
to know what ailed him. 

"Nothing," said he blandly, "nothing at all; but it 
seemed an excellent chance to get good medicine." 

After the clinic was all attended to, we retired to 
our tents and the screeching-hot bath so grateful in 
the tropics. When we emerged, in our mosquito 
boots and pajamas, the daylight was gone. Scores 
of little blazes licked and leaped in the velvet black- 
ness round about, casting the undergrowth and the 
lower branches of the trees into flat planes like the 
cardboard of a stage setting. Cheerful, squatted 
figures sat in silhouette or in the relief of chance 
high light. Long switches of meat roasted before 
the fires. A hum of talk, bursts of laughter, the 
crooning of minor chants mingled with the crack- 

85 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ling of thorns. Before our tents stood the table set 
for supper. Beyond It lay the pile of firewood, 
later to be burned on the altar of our safety against 
beasts. The moonlight was casting milky shadows 
over the river and under the trees opposite. In 
those shadows gleamed many fireflies. Overhead 
were millions of stars, and a little breeze that wan- 
dered through upper branches. 

But in Equatorial Africa the simple bands of vel- 
vet black against the spangled brightnesses that 
make up the visual night world, must give way in 
interest to the other world of sound. The air hums 
with an undertone of insects; the plain and hill and 
jungle are populous with voices furtive or bold. In 
daytime one sees animals enough, in all conscience, 
but only at night does he sense the almost oppres- 
sive feeling of the teeming life about him. The dark- 
ness is peopled. Zebra bark, bucks blow or snort 
or make the weird noises of their respective species; 
hyenas howl; out of an immense simian silence a 
group of monkeys suddenly break into chatterings; 
ostriches utter their deep hollow boom.; small things 
scurry and squeak; a certain weird bird of the cur- 
lew or plover sort wails like a lonesome soul. Es- 
pecially by the river, as here, are the boomings of the 
weirdest of weird bullfrogs, and the splashings and 
swishings of crocodile and hippopotamus. One is 

86 



ON THE MARCH 

Impressed with the busyness of the world sur- 
rounding him; every bird or beast, the hunter and 
the hunted, is the centre of many important affairs. 
The world swarms. 

And then, some miles away a lion roars, the earth 
and air vibrating to the sheer power of the sound. 
The world falls to a blank dead silence. For a full 
minute every living creature of the jungle or of the 
veldt holds its breath. Their lord has spoken. 

After dinner we sat in our canvas chairs, smoking. 
The guard fire in front of our tent had been lit. On 
the other side of it stood one of our askaris leaning 
on his musket. He and his three companions, turn 
about, keep the flames bright against the fiercer 
creatures. 

After a time we grew sleepy. I called Saa-sita 
and entrusted to him my watch. On the crystal of 
this I had pasted a small piece of surgeon's plaster. 
When the hour hand reached the surgeon's plaster, 
he must wake us up. Saa-sita was a very conscien- 
tious and careful man. One day I took some time 
hitching my pedometer properly to his belt: I could 
not wear it effectively myself because I was on horse- 
back. At the end of the ten-hour march it regis- 
tered a mile and a fraction. Saa-sita explained that 
he wished to take especial care of it, so he had wrap- 
ped it in a cloth and carried it all day in his hand! 

87 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

We turned In. As I reached over to extinguish 
the lantern I issued my last command for the day. 

"Watcha kalele, Saa-sita," I told the askari; and 
at once he lifted up his voice to repeat my words. 
"Watcha kalele!" Immediately from the Respon- 
sible all over camp the word came back — from 
gunbearers, from M'ganga, from tent boys — "kal- 
ele! kalele! kalele!" 

Thus commanded, the boisterous fun, the low 
croon of intimate talk, the gently rising and falling 
tide of melody fell to complete silence. Only re- 
mained the crackling of the fire and the innumer- 
able voices of the tropical night. 



88 



VIII 
THE RIVER JUNGLE 

WE CAMPED along this river for several 
weeks, poking indefinitely and happily around 
the country in all directions to see what we could see. 
Generally we went together, for neither B. nor my- 
self had been tried out as yet on dangerous game — 
those easy rhinos hardly counted — and I think we 
both preferred to feel that we had backing until we 
knew what our nerves were going to do with us. 
Nevertheless, occasionally, I would take Memba 
Sasa and go out for a little purposeless stroll a few 
miles up or down river. Sometimes we skirted the 
jungle, sometimes we held as near as possible to the 
river's bank, sometimes we cut loose and rambled 
through the dry, crackling scrub over the low vol- 
canic hills of the arid country outside. 

Nothing can equal the intense interest of the most 
ordinary walk in Africa. It is the only country I 
know of where a man is thoroughly and continu- 
ously alive. Often when riding horseback with the 
dogs in my California home I have watched them 

89 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

in envy of the keen, alert interest they took in every 
stone, stick, and bush, in every sight, sound, and 
smell. With equal frequency I have expressed that 
envy, but as something unattainable to a human 
being's more phlegmatic make-up. In Africa one 
actually rises to continuous alertness. There are no 
dozy moments — except you curl up in a safe place 
for the purpose of dozing; again just like the dog! 
Every bush, every hollow, every high tuft of grass, 
every deep shadow must be scrutinized for danger. 
It will not do to pass carelessly any possible lurking 
place. At the same time the sense of hearing must 
be on guard; so that no break of twig or crash of 
bough can go unremarked. Rhinoceroses conceal 
themselves most cannily, and have a deceitful habit 
of leaping from a nap into their swiftest stride. 
Cobras and puflF adders are scarce, to be sure, but 
very deadly. Lions will generally give way, if not 
shot at or too closely pressed; nevertheless there is 
always the chance of cubs or too close a surprise. 
Buffalo lurk daytimes in the deep thickets, but oc- 
casionally a rogue bull lives where your trail will 
lead. These things do not happen often, but in the 
long run they Surely do happen, and once is quite 
enough provided the beast gets in. 

At first this continual alertness and tension is 
rather exhausting; but after a very short time it be- 

90 



THE RIVER JUNGLE 

comes second nature. A sudden rustle the other 
side a bush no longer brings you up all standing with 
your heart in your throat; but you are aware of it, 
and you are facing the possible danger almost before 
your slower brain has issued any orders to that effect. 

In rereading the above, I am afraid that I am 
conveying the idea that one here walks under the 
shadow of continual uneasiness. This is not in the 
least so. One enjoys the sun, and the birds and the 
little things. He cultivates the great leisure of 
mind that shall fill the breadth of his outlook abroad 
over a newly wonderful world. But underneath 
it all is the alertness, the responsiveness to quick 
reflexes of judgment and action, the intimate corre- 
lations to immediate environment which must char- 
acterize the instincts of the higher animals. And it 
is good to live these things. 

Along the edge of that river jungle were many 
strange and beautiful affairs. I could slip along 
among the high clumps of the thicker bushes In such 
a manner as to be continually coming around un- 
expected bends. Of such manoeuvres are surprises 
made. The graceful red impalla were here very 
abundant. I would come on them, their heads up, 
their great ears flung forward, their noses twitching 
in inquiry of something they suspected but could not 
fully sense. When slightly alarmed or suspicious 

91 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the does always stood compactly in a herd, while 
the bucks remained discreetly in the background, 
their beautiful, branching, widespread horns showing 
over the backs of their harems. The impalla is, 
in my opinion, one of the most beautiful and grace- 
ful of the African bucks, a perpetual delight to 
watch either standing or running. These beasts are 
extraordinarily agile, and have a habit of breaking 
their ordinary fast run by unexpectedly leaping 
high in the air. At a distance they give somewhat 
the effect of dolphins at sea, only their leaps are 
higher and more nearly perpendicular. Once or 
twice I have even seen one jump over the back of 
another. On another occasion we saw a herd of 
twenty-five or thirty cross a road of which, evi- 
dently, they were a little suspicious. We could not 
find a single hoof mark in the dust! Generally 
these beasts frequent thin brush country; but I have 
three or four times seen them quite out in the open 
flat plains, feeding with the hartebeeste and zebra. 
They are about the size of our ordinary deer, are 
delicately fashioned, and can utter the most incon- 
gruously grotesque of noises by way of calls or or- 
dinary conversation. 

The lack of curiosity, or the lack of gallantry, of 
the impalla bucks was, in my experience, quite char- 
acteristic. They were almost always the farthest 

92 



THE RIVER JUNGLE 

in the background and the first away when danger 
threatened. The ladies could look out for them- 
selves. They had no horns to save; and what do the 
fool women mean by showing so little sense, any- 
way! They deserve what they get! It used to 
amuse me a lot to observe the utter abandonment 
of all responsibility by these handsome gentlemen. 
When it came time to depart, they departed. 
Hang the girls! They trailed along after as fast 
as they could. 

The waterbuck — a fine large beast about the 
size of our caribou, a well-conditioned buck resem- 
bling in form and attitude the finest of Landseer's 
stags — on the other hand, had a little more sense 
of responsibility, when he had anything to do with 
the sex at all. He was hardly what you might call 
a strictly domestic character. I have hunted 
through a country for several days at a time with- 
out seeing a single mature buck of this species, al- 
though there were plenty of does, in herds of ten to 
fifty, with a few infants among them just sprouting 
horns. Then finally, in some small grassy valley, 
I would come on the Men's Club. There they were, 
ten, twenty, three dozen of them, having the finest 
kind of an untramelled masculine time all by them- 
selves. Generally, however, I will say for them, 
they took clre of their own peoples. There would 

93 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

quite likely be one big old fellow, his harem of vary- 
ing numbers, and the younger subordinate bucks all 
together in a happy family. When some one of the 
lot announced that something was about, and they 
had all lined up to stare in the suspected direction, 
the big buck was there in the foreground of inquiry. 
When finally they made me out, it was generally the 
big buck who gave the signal. He went first, to be 
sure, but his going first was evidently an act of 
leadership, and not merely a disgraceful desire to 
get away before the rest did. 

But the waterbuck had to yield in turn to the 
plains gazelles; especially to the Thompson's gazelle, 
familiarly — and affectionately — known as the 
"Tommy." He is a quaint little chap, standing 
only a foot and a half tall at the shoulder, fawn col- 
our on top, white beneath, with a black, horizontal 
stripe on his side, like a chipmunk, most lightly and 
gracefully built. When he was first made, some- 
body told him that unless he did something char- 
acteristic, like waggling his little tail, he was likely 
to be mistaken by the undiscriminating for his big- 
ger cousin, the Grant's gazelle. He has waggled 
his tail ever since, and so is almost never mistaken 
for a Grant's gazelle, even by the undiscriminating. 
Evidently his religion is Mohammedan, for he al- 
ways has a great many wives. He takes good care 

94 



THE RIVER JUNGLE 

of them, however. When danger appears, even when 
danger threatens, he is the last to leave the field. 
Here and there he dashes frantically, seeing that the 
women and children get off. And when the herd 
tops the hill, Tommy's little horns bring up the rear 
of the procession. I like Tommy. He is a cheerful, 
gallant, quaint little person, with the air of being 
quite satisfied with his own solution of this compli- 
cated world. 

Among the low brush at the edge of the river jun- 
gle dwelt also the dik-dik, the tiniest miniature of a 
deer you could possibly imagine. His legs are lead 
pencil size, he stands only about nine inches tall, 
he weighs from five to ten pounds; and yet he is a 
perfect little antelope, horns and all. I used to see 
him singly or in pairs standing quite motionless and 
all but invisible in the shade of bushes; or leaping 
suddenly to his feet and scurrying away like mad 
through the dry grass. His personal opinion of me 
was generally expressed in a loud clear whistle. 
But then nobody in this strange country talks the 
language you would naturally expect him to talk! 
Zebra bark, hyenas laugh, impallas grunt, ostriches 
boom like drums, leopards utter a plaintive sigh, 
hornbills cry like a stage child, bushbucks sound 
like a cross between a dog and a squawky toy — ■ 
and so on. There is only one safe rule for the nov- 

95 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ice in Africa : never believe a word the jungle and veldt 
people tell you! 

These two — the impalla and the waterbuck — 
were the principal buck we would see close to the 
river. Occasionally, however, we came on a few 
oryx, down for a drink, beautiful big antelope, with 
white and black faces, roached manes, and straight, 
nearly parallel, rapier horns upward of three feet 
long. A herd of these creatures, the light gleaming 
on their weapons, held all at the same slant, was like a 
regiment of bayonets in the sun. And there were also 
the rhinoceroses to be carefully espied and avoided. 
They lay obliterated beneath the shade of bushes, 
and arose with a mighty blow-off of steam. Where- 
upon we withdrew silently, for we wanted to shoot 
no more rhinos, unless we had to. 

Beneath all these obvious and startling things, 
a thousand other interesting matters were afoot. In 
the mass and texture of the jungle grew many strange 
trees and shrubs. One most scrubby, fat and leaf- 
less tree, looking as though it were just about to 
give up a discouraged existence, surprised us by put- 
ting forth, apparently directly from its bloated wood, 
the most wonderful red blossoms. Another other- 
wise self-respecting tree hung itself all over with 
plump bologna sausages about two feet long and 
five inches thick. A curious vine hung like a rope, 

96 



THE RIVER JUNGLE 

with Turk's-head knots about a foot apart on its 
whole length, like the hand-over-hand ropes of 
gymnasiums. Other ropes were studded all over 
with thick blunt bosses, resembling much the out- 
break on one sort of Arts-and-Crafts door: the sort 
intended to repel Mail-clad Hosts. 

The monkeys undoubtedly used such obvious 
highways through the trees. These little people 
were very common. As we walked along, they 
withdrew before us. We could make out their 
figures galloping hastily across the open places, 
mounting bushes and stubs to take a satisfying 
backward look, clambering to treetops, and launch- 
ing themselves across the abysses between limbs. 
If we went slowly, they retired in silence. If we 
hurried at all, they protested in direct ratio to the 
speed of our advance. And when later the whole 
safari, loads on heads, marched inconsiderately 
through their jungle ! We happened to be hunting on 
a parallel course a half mile away, and we could 
trace accurately the progress of our men by the out- 
raged shrieks, chatterings, appeals to high heaven for 
at least elemental justice to the monkey people. 

Often, too, we would come on concourses of the 
big baboons. They certainly carried on weighty 
affairs of their own according to a fixed polity. I 
never got well enough acquainted with them to 

97 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

master the details of their government, but it was 
indubitably built on patriarchal lines. When we 
succeeded in approaching without being discovered, 
we would frequently find the old men baboons squat- 
ting on their heels in a perfect circle, evidently dis- 
cussing matters of weight and portent. Seen from 
a distance, their group so much resembled the coun- 
cil circles of native warriors that sometimes, in a 
native country, we made that mistake. Outside 
this solemn council, the women, young men and 
children went about their daily business, what- 
ever that was. Up convenient low trees or bushes 
roosted sentinels. 

We never remained long undiscovered. One of 
the sentinels barked sharply. At once the whole 
lot loped away, speedily but with a curious effect 
of deliberation. The men folks held their tails in 
a proud high sideways arch; the curious youngsters 
clambered up bushes to take a hasty look; the 
babies clung desperately with all four feet to the 
thick fur on their mothers' backs; the mothers gal- 
loped along imperturbably unheeding of infantile 
troubles aloft. The side hill was bewildering with 
the big bobbing black forms. 

In this lower country the weather was hot, and 
the sun very strong. The heated air was full of 
the sounds of insects; some of them comfortable, 

98 



THE RIVER JUNGLE 

like the buzzing of bees, some of them strange and 
unusual to us. One cicada had a sustained note, in 
quality about like that of our own August-day's 
friend, but in quantity and duration as the roar of a 
train to the gentle hum of a good motor car. Like all 
cicada noises it did not usurp the sound world, but 
constituted itself an underlying basis, so to speak. 
And when it stopped the silence seemed to rush in as 
into a vacuum! 

We had likewise the aeroplane beetle. He was so 
big that he would have made good wing-shooting. 
His manner of flight was the straight-ahead, heap- 
of-buzz, plenty-busy, don't-stop-a-minute-or-you'll- 
come-down method of the aeroplane; and he made 
the same sort of a hum. His first-cousin, mechan- 
ically, was what we called the wind-up-the-watch 
insect. This specimen possessed a watch — an 
old-fashioned Waterbury, evidently — that he was 
continually winding. It must have been hard work 
for the poor chap, for it sounded like a very big 
watch. 

All these things were amusing. So were the birds. 
The African bird is quite inclined to be didactic. 
He believes you need advice, and he means to give it. 
To this end he repeats the same thing over and over 
until he thinks you surely cannot misunderstand. 
One chap especially whom we called the lawyer bird, 

99 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

and who lived in the treetops, had four phrases to 
impart. He said them very deliberately, with due 
pause between each; then he repeated them rapidly; 
finally he said them all over again with an exasper- 
ated bearing-down emphasis. The joke of it is I 
cannot now remember just how they went! An- 
other feathered pedagogue was continually warning 
us to go slow; very good advice near an African 
jungle. " Poley-poley ! poley-poley ! " he warned 
again and again; which is good Swahili for "slowly! 
slowly!" We always minded him. There were 
many others, equally impressed with their own wis- 
dom, but the one I remember with most amusement 
was a dilatory person who apparently never got 
around to his job until near sunset. Evidently he 
had contracted to deliver just so many warnings 
per diem: and invariably he got so busy chasing 
insects, enjoying the sun, gossiping with a friend, 
and generally footling about that the late afternoon 
caught him unawares with never a chirp accom- 
plished. So he sat in a bush and said his say over 
and over just as fast as he could without pause for 
breath or recreation. It was really quite a feat. 
Just at dusk, after two hours of gabbling, he would 
reach the end of his contracted number. With a 
final relieved chirp he ended. 
It has been said that African birds are "songless," 
xoo 



THE RIVER JUNGLE 

This is a careless statement that can easily be read 
to mean that African birds are silent. The writer 
evidently must have had in mind as a criterion some 
of our own or the English great feathered soloists. 
Certainly the African jungle seems to produce no 
individual performers as sustained as our own bob- 
o-link, our hermit thrush, or even our common robin. 
But the African birds are vocal enough, for all that. 
Some of them have a richness and depth of timbre 
perhaps unequalled elsewhere. Of such is the chime- 
bird with his deep double note; or the bell-bird toll- 
ing like a cathedral in the blackness of the forest; 
or the bottle bird that apparently pours gurgling 
liquid gold from a silver jug. As the jungle is ex- 
ceedingly populous of these feathered specialists, it 
follows that the early morning chorus is wonderful. 
Africa may not possess the soloists, but its full or- 
chestrial effects are superb. 

Naturally under the equator one expects and de- 
mands the "gorgeous tropical plumage" of the books. 
He is not disappointed. The sun-birds of fifty odd 
species, the brilliant blue starlings, the various par- 
rots, the variegated hornbills, the widower-birds, 
and dozens of others whose names would mean noth- 
ing flash here and there In the shadow and in the 
open. With them are hundreds of quiet little bod- 
ies just as interesting to one who likes birds. From ^ 

lOI 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the trees and bushes hang pear-shaped nests plaited 
beautifully of long grasses, hard and smooth as 
hand-made baskets, the work of the various sorts of 
weaver-birds. In the tops of the trees roosted tall 
marabout storks like dissipated, hairless old club- 
men in well-groomed, correct evening dress. 

And around camp gathered the swift brown kites. 
They were robbers and villains, but we could not 
hate them. All day long they sailed back and forth 
spying sharply. When they thought they saw their 
chance, they stooped with incredible swiftness to 
seize a piece of meat. Sometimes they would snatch 
their prize almost from the hands of its rightful 
owner, and would swoop triumphantly upward 
again pursued by polyglot maledictions and a 
throwing stick. They were very skilful on their 
wings. I have many times seen them, while flying, 
tear up and devour large chunks of meat. It seems 
to my inexperience as an aviator rather a nice feat 
to keep your balance while tearing with your beak 
at meat held in your talons. Regardless of other 
landmarks, we always knew when we were nearing 
camp, after one of our strolls, by the gracefully 
wheeling figures of our kites. 



I02 



IX 

THE FIRST LION 

ONE day we all set out to make our discoveries 
— F., B., and I with our gunbearers, Memba 
Sasa, Mavrouki, and Simba, and ten porters to 
bring in the trophies, which we wanted very much, 
and the meat, which the men wanted still more. We 
rode our horses, and the syces followed. This 
made quite a field force — nineteen men all told. 
Nineteen white men would be exceedingly unlikely 
to get within a liberal half mile of anything; but the 
native has sneaky ways. 

At first we followed between the river and the low 
hills, but when the latter drew back to leave open a 
broad flat, we followed their line. At this point 
they rose to a clifl"like headland a hundred and fifty 
feet high, flat on top. We decided to investigate 
that mesa, both for the possibilities of game, and for 
the chance of a view abroad. 

The footing was exceedingly noisy and treacher- 
ous, for it was composed of flat, tinkling little stones. 
Dried-up, skimpy bushes just higher than our heads 

103 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

made a thin but regular cover. There seemed not 
to be a spear of anything edible, yet we caught the 
flash of red as a herd of impalla melted away at our 
rather noisy approach. Near the foot of the hill 
we dismounted, with orders to all the men but the 
gunbearers to sit down and make themselves com- 
fortable. Should we need them we could easily 
either signal or send word. Then we set ourselves 
toilsomely to clamber up that volcanic hill. 

It was not particularly easy going, especially as 
we were trying to walk quietly. You see, we were 
about to surmount a skyline. Surmounting 'a sky- 
line is always most exciting anywhere, for what lies 
beyond is at once revealed as a whole and contains 
the very essence of the unknown; but most decidedly 
is this true in Africa. That mesa looked flat, and 
almost anything might be grazing or browsing there. 
So we proceeded gingerly, with due regard to the 
rolling of the loose rocks or the tinkling of the little 
pebbles. 

But long before we had reached that alluring sky- 
line we were halted by the gentle snapping of Mav- 
rouki's fingers. That, strangely enough, is a sound 
to which wild animals seem to pay no attention, and 
is therefore most useful as a signal. We looked back. 
The three gunbearers were staring to the right of our 
course. About a hundred yards away, on the steep 

104 



THE FIRST LION 

side hill, and partly concealed by the brush, stood 
two rhinoceroses. 

They were side by side, apparently dozing. We 
squatted on our heels for a consultation. 

The obvious thing, as the wind was from them, 
was to sneak quietly by, saying nuffin' to nobody. 
But although we wanted no more rhino, we very 
much wanted rhino pictures. A discussion de- 
veloped no really good reason why we should not 
kodak these especial rhinos — except that there 
were two of them. So we began to worm our way 
quietly through the bushes in their direction. 

F. and B. deployed on the flanks, their double- 
barrelled rifles ready for instant action. I occupied 
the middle with that dangerous weapon the 3 A 
kodak. Memba Sasa followed at my elbow, hold- 
ing my big gun. 

Now the trouble with modern photography is 
that it is altogether too lavish in its depiction of dis- 
tances. If you do not believe it, take a picture of a 
horse at as short a range as twenty-five yards. 
That equine will, in the development, have receded to 
a respectable middle distance. Therefore it had 
been agreed that the advance of the battle line was 
to cease only when those rhinoceroses loomed up rea- 
sonably large in the finder. I kept looking into 
the finder, you may be sure. Nearer and nearer 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

we crept. The great beasts were evidently basking 
in the sun. Their little pig eyes alone gave any sign 
of life. Otherwise they exhibited the complete 
immobility of something done in granite. Prob- 
ably no other beast impresses one with quite this 
quality. I suppose it is because even the little 
motions peculiar to other animals are with the rhinoc- 
eros entirely lacking. He is not in the least of a 
nervous disposition, so he does not stamp his feet 
nor change his position. It is useless for him to wag 
his tail; for, in the first place, the tail is absurdly 
inadequate; and, in the second place, flies are not 
among his troubles. Flies wouldn't bother you 
either, if you had a skin two Inches thick. So there 
they stood, inert and solid as two huge brown rocks, 
save for the deep, wicked twinkle of their little eyes. 

Yes, we were close enough to "see the whites of 
their eyes," if they had had any: and also to be 
within the range of their limited vision. Of course 
we were now stalking, and taking advantage of all 
the cover. 

Those rhinoceroses looked to me like two Dread- 
naughts. The African two-horned rhinoceros is a 
bigger animal anyway than our circus friend, who 
generally comes from India. One of these brutes 
I measured went five feet nine inches at the shoulder, 
and was thirteen feet six inches from bow to stern. 

io6 



THE FIRST LION 

Compare these dimensions with your own height 
and with the length of your motor car. It is one 
thing to take on such beasts in the hurry of surprise, 
the excitement of a charge, or to stalk up to within a 
respectable range of them with a gun at ready. 
But this deliberate sneaking up with the hope of 
being able to sneak away again was a little too slow 
and cold-blooded. It made me nervous. I liked 
it, but I knew at the time I was going to like it a 
whole lot better when it was triumphantly over. 

We were now within twenty yards (they were 
standing starboard side on), and I prepared to get 
my picture. To do so I would either have to step 
quietly out into sight, trusting to the shadow and 
the slowness of my movements to escape observa- 
tion, or hold the camera above the bush, directing 
it by guess work. It was a little difficult to decide. 
I knew what I ought to do 

Without the slightest premonitory warning those 
two brutes snorted and whirled in their tracks to 
stand facing in our direction. After the dead still- 
ness they made a tremendous row, what with the 
jerky suddenness of their movements, their loud 
snorts, and the avalanche of echoing stones and boul- 
ders they started down the hill. 

This was the magnificent opportunity. At this 
point I should boldly have stepped out from behind 

107 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

my bush, levelled my trusty 3 A, and coolly snapped 
the beasts, "charging at fifteen yards." Then, if 
B.'s and F.'s shots went absolutely true, or if the 
brutes didn't happen to smash the camera as well 
as me, I, or my executors as the case might be, 
would have had a fine picture. 

But I didn't. I dropped that expensive 3A 
Special on some hard rocks, and grabbed my rifle 
from Memba Sasa. If you want really to know 
why, go confront your motor car at fifteen or twenty 
paces, multiply him by two, and endow him with 
an eagerly malicious disposition. 

They advanced several yards, halted, faced us 
for perhaps five or six seconds, uttered another 
snort, whirled with the agility of polo ponies, and 
departed at a swinging trot and with surprising 
agility along the steep side hill. 

I recovered the camera, undamaged, and we con- 
tinued our climb. 

The top of the mesa was disappointing as far as 
game was concerned. It was covered all over with 
red stones, round, and as large as a man's head. 
Thornbushes found some sort of sustenance in the 
interstices. 

But we had gained to a magnificent view. Before 
us lay the narrow flat, then the winding jungle of our 
river, then long rolling desert country, gray with 

108 



THE FIRST LION 

thorn scrub, sweeping upward to the base of cas- 
tellated buttes and one tremendous riven cliff moun- 
tain, dropping over the horizon to a very distant 
blue range. Behind us eight or ten miles away was 
the low ridge through which our journey had come. 
The mesa on which we stood broke back at right 
angles to admit another stream flowing into our 
own. Beyond this stream were rolling hills, and 
scrub country, the hint of blue peaks and illimitable 
distances falling away to the unknown Tara Desert 
and the sea. 

There seemed to be nothing much to be gained 
here, so we made up our minds to cut across the 
mesa, and from the other edge of It to overlook the 
valley of the tributary river. This we would de- 
scend until we came to our horses. 

Accordingly we stumbled across a mile or so of 
those round and rolling stones. Then we found our- 
selves overlooking a wide flat or pocket where the 
stream valley widened. It extended even as far 
as the upward fling of the barrier ranges. Thick 
scrub covered it, but erratically, so that here and 
there were little openings or thin places. We sat 
down, manned our trusty prism glasses, and gave 
ourselves to the pleasing occupation of looking the 
country over Inch by inch. 

This is great fun. It is a game a good deal like 

100 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

puzzle pictures. Re-examination generally de- 
velops new and unexpected beasts. We repeated 
to each other aloud the results of our scrutiny, 
always without removing the glasses from our 
eyes. 

"Oryx, one," said F. ; "oryx, two." 
"Giraffe," reported B., "and a herd of impalla." 
I saw another giraffe, and another oryx, then two 
rhinoceroses. 

The three gunbearers squatted on their heels be- 
hind us, their fierce eyes staring straight ahead, 
seeing with the naked eye what we were finding with 
six-power glasses. 

We turned to descend the hill. In the very centre 
of the deep shade of a clump of trees, I saw the gleam 
of a waterbuck's horns. While I was telling of this, 
the beast stepped from his concealment, trotted a 
short distance upstream and turned to climb a little 
ridge parallel to that by which we were descending. 
About halfway up he stopped, staring in our direc- 
tion, his head erect, the slight ruff under his neck 
standing forward. He was a good four hundred 
yards away. B., who wanted him, decided the shot 
too chancy. He and F. slipped backward until they 
had gained the cover of the little ridge, then has- 
tened down the bed of the ravine. Their purpose 
was to follow the course already taken by the water- 

IIQ 



THE FIRST LION 

buck until they should have sneaked within better 
range. In the meantime I and the gunbearers sat 
down in full view of the buck. This was to keep his 
attention distracted. 

We sat there a long time. The buck never moved 
but continued to stare at what evidently puzzled 
him Time passes very slowly in such circumstances, 
and it seemed incredible that the beast should 
continue much longer to hold his fixed attitude. 
Nevertheless B. and F. were working hard. We 
caught glimpses of them occasionally slipping from 
bush to bush. Finally B. knelt and levelled his 
rifle. At once I turned my glasses on the buck. 
Before the sound of the rifle had reached me, I saw 
him start convulsively, then make off at the tearing 
run that indicates a heart hit. A moment later the 
crack of the rifle and the dull plunk of the hitting 
bullet struck my ear. 

We tracked him fifty yards to where he lay dead. 
He was a fine trophy, and we at once set the boys 
to preparing it and taking the meat. In the mean- 
time we sauntered down to look at the stream. It 
was a small rapid affair, but in heavy papyrus, with 
sparse trees, and occasional thickets, and dry hard 
banks. The papyrus should make a good lurking 
place for almost anything; but the few points of ac- 
cess to the water failed to show many interesting 

III 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

tracks. Nevertheless we decided to explore a short 
distance. 

For an hour we walked among high thornbushes, 
over baking hot earth. We saw two or three dik- 
dik and one of the giraffes. By that time it had be- 
come very hot, and the sun was bearing down on us 
as with the weight of a heavy hand. The air had 
the scorching, blasting quality of an opened furnace 
door. Our mouths were getting dry and sticky in 
that peculiar stage of thirst on which no luke-warm 
canteen water in necessarily limited quantity has 
any effect. So we turned back, picked up the men 
with the waterbuck, and plodded on down the little 
stream, or, rather, on the red-hot dry valley bot- 
tom outside the stream's course, to where the syces 
were waiting with our horses. We mounted with 
great thankfulness. It was now eleven o'clock, and 
we considered our day as finished. 

The best way for a distance seemed to follow the 
course of the tributary stream to its point of junc- 
tion with our river. We rode along, rather relaxed 
in the suffocating heat. F. was nearest the stream. 
At one point it freed itself of trees and brush and 
ran clear, save for low papyrus, ten feet down below 
a steep eroded bank. F. looked over and uttered a 
startled exclamation. I spurred my horse forward 
to see. 

112 



THE FIRST LION 

Below us, about fifteen yards away, was the car- 
cass of a waterbuck half hidden in the foot-high grass. 
A Hon and two lionesses stood upon it, staring up at 
us with great yellow eyes. That picture is a very 
vivid one in my memory, for those were the first wild 
lions I had ever seen. My most lively impression 
was of their unexpected size. They seemed to bulk 
fully a third larger than my expectation. 

The magnificent beasts stood only long enough to 
see clearly what had disturbed them, then turned, 
and in two bounds had gained the shelter of the 
thicket. 

Now the habit in Africa is to let your gunbearers 
carry all your guns. You yourself stride along hand 
free. It is an English idea, and is pretty generally 
adopted out there by every one, of whatever na- 
tionality. They will explain it to you by saying 
that in such a climate a man should do only neces- 
sary physical work, and that a good gunbearer will 
get a weapon into your hand so quickly and in so 
convenient a position that you will lose no time. I 
acknowledge the gunbearers are sometimes very 
skilful at this, but I do deny that there is no loss of 
time. The instant of distracted attention while 
receiving a weapon, the necessity of recollecting 
the nervous correlations after the transfer, very often 
mark just the difference between a sure instinctive 

"3 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

snapshot and a lost opportunity. It stands to 
reason that the man with the rifle in his hand reacts 
instinctively, in one motion, to get his weapon into 
play. If the gunbearer has the gun, he must first 
react to pass it up, the master must receive it prop- 
erly, and then, and not until then, may go on from 
where the other man began. As for physical labour 
in the tropics: if a grown man cannot without dis- 
comfort or evil effects carry an eight-pound rifle, 
he is too feeble to go out at all. In a long Western 
experience I have learned never to be separated 
from my weapon; and I believe the continuance of 
this habit in Africa saved me a good number of 
chances. 

At any rate, we all flung ourselves off our horses. 
I, having my rifle in my hand, managed to throw a 
shot after the biggest lion as he vanished. It was 
a snap at nothing, and missed. Then in an opening 
on the edge a hundred yards away appeared one of 
the lionesses. She was trotting slowly, and on her 
I had time to draw a hasty aim. At the shot she 
bounded high in the air, fell, rolled over, and was up 
and into the thicket before I had much more than 
time to pump up another shell from the magazine. 
Memba Sasa in his eagerness got in the way — the 
first and last time he ever made a mistake in the field. 

By this time the others had got hold of their 
114 



THE FIRST LION 

weapons. We fronted the blank face of the 
thicket. 

The wounded animal would stand a little waiting. 
We made a wide circle to the other side of the stream. 
There we quickly picked up the trail of the two unin- 
jured beasts. They had headed directly over the hill, 
where we speedily lost all trace of them on the flint- 
like surface of the ground. We saw a big pack of 
baboons in the only likely direction for a lion to go. 
Being thus thrown back on a choice of a hundred 
other unlikely directions, we gave up that slim 
chance and returned to the thicket. 

This proved to be a very dense piece of cover. 
Above the height of the waist the interlocking 
branches would absolutely prevent any progress, 
but by stooping low we could see dimly among the 
simpler main stems to a distance of perhaps fifteen 
or twenty feet. This combination at once afforded 
the wounded lioness plenty of cover in which to 
hide, plenty of room in which to charge home, and 
placed us under the disadvantage of a crouched or 
crawling attitude with limited vision. We talked 
the matter over very thoroughly. There was 
only one way to get that lioness out; and that 
was to go after her. The job of going after her 
needed some planning. The Hon is cunning and 
exceeding fierce. A flank attack, once we were 

"5 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

in the thicket, was as much to be expected as a 
frontal charge. 

We advanced to the thicket's edge with many pre- 
cautions. To our relief we found she had left us a 
definite trail. B. and I kneeling took up positions on 
either side, our rifles ready. F. and Simba crawled 
by inches eight or ten feet inside the thicket. 
Then, having executed this manoeuvre safely, B. 
moved up to protect our rear while I, with Memba 
Sasa, slid down to join F. 

From this point we moved forward alternately. 
I would crouch, all alert, my rifie ready, while F. 
slipped by me and a few feet ahead. Then he would 
get organized for battle while I passed him. Mem- 
ba Sasa and Simba, game as badgers, their fierce 
eyes gleaming with excitement, their faces shining, 
crept along at the rear. B. knelt outside the thicket, 
straining his eyes for the slightest movement either 
side of the line of our advance. Often these wily 
animals will sneak back in a half circle to attack 
their pursuers from behind. Two or three of the 
bolder porters crouched alongside B., peering eagerly. 
The rest had quite properly retired to the safe dis- 
tance where the horses stood. 

We progressed very, very slowly. Every splash 
of light or mottled shadow, every clump of bush 
stems, every fallen log had to be examined, and then 

ii6 




o 



o 



o 

Oh 



C3 



o 

a, 







"I placed the little gold bead of my 405 Winchester where 1 
thought it would do the most good." 



THE FIRST LION 

examined again. And how we did strain our eyes 
in a vain attempt to penetrate the half lights, the 
duskinesses of the closed-in thicket not over fifteen 
feet away! And then the movement forward of two 
feet would bring into our field of vision an entirely 
new set of tiny vistas and possible lurking places. 

Speaking for myself, I was keyed up to a tremen- 
dous tension. I stared until my eyes ached; every 
muscle and nerve was taut. Everything depended 
on seeing the beast promptly, and firing quickly. 
With the manifest advantage of being able to see us, 
she would spring to battle fully prepared. A yellow 
flash and a quick shot seemed about to size up that 
situation. Every few moments, I remember, I sur- 
reptitiously held out my hand to see if the con- 
stantly growing excitement and the long-continued 
strain had affected its steadiness. 

The combination of heat and nervous strain was 
very exhausting. The sweat poured from me; and 
as F. passed me I saw the great drops standing out 
on his face. My tongue got dry, my breath came 
laboriously. Finally I began to wonder whether 
physically I should be able to hold out. We had 
been crawling, it seemed, for hours. I dared not look 
back, but we must have come a good quarter mile. 
Finally F. stopped. 

"I'm all in for water," he gasped in a whisper. 
117 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Somehow that confession made me feel a lot bet- 
ter. I had thought that I was the only one. Cau- 
tiously we settled back on our heels. Memba Sasa 
and Simba wiped the sweat from their faces. It 
seemed that they too had found the work severe. 
That cheered me up still more. 

Simba grinned at us, and, worming his way back- 
ward with the sinuousity of a snake, he disappeared 
in the direction from which we had come. F. cursed 
after him in a whisper both for departing and for 
taking the risk. But in a moment he had returned 
carrying two canteens of blessed w?ter. We took 
a drink most gratefully. 

I glanced at my watch. It was just under two 
hours since I had fired my shot. I looked back. 
My supposed quarter mile had shrunk to not over 
fifty feet! 

After resting a few moments longer, we again took 
up our systematic advance. 

We made perhaps another fifty feet. We were 
ascending a very gentle slope. F. was for the mo- 
ment ahead. Right before us the lion growled ; a deep 
rumbling like the end of a great thunder roll, fath- 
oms and fathoms deep, with the inner subterranean 
vibrations of a heavy train of cars passing a man in- 
side a sealed building. At the same moment over F.'s 
shoulder I saw a huge yellow head rise up, the round 

ii8 



THE FIRST LION 

eyes flashing anger, the small black-tipped ears laid 
back, the great fangs snarling. The beast was not over 
twelve feet distant. F. immediately fired. His shot, 
hitting an intervening twig, went wild. With the ut- 
most coolness he immediately pulled the other trigger 
of his double barrel. The cartridge snapped. 

"If you will kindly stoop down " said I, in 

what I now remember to be rather an exaggeratedly 
polite tone. As F.'s head disappeared, I placed the 
little gold bead of my 405 Winchester where I 
thought it would do the most good, and pulled trig- 
ger. She rolled over dead. 

The whole affair had begun and finished with un- 
believable swiftness. From the growl to the fatal 
shot I don't suppose four seconds elapsed, for our 
various actions had followed one another with the 
speed of the instinctive. The lioness had growled 
at our approach, had raised her head to charge, and 
had received her deathblow before she had released 
her muscles in the spring. There had been no time 
to get frightened. 

We sat back for a second. A brown hand reached 
over my shoulder. 

"Mizouri — mizouri sana!" cried Memba Sasa 
joyously. I shook the hand. 

"Good business!" said F. "Congratulate you on 
your first lion." 

119 



THE LAST FR0NTII:R 

We then remembered B., and shouted to him that 
all was over. He and the other men wriggled in to 
where we were lying. He made this distance in 
about fifteen seconds. It had taken us nearly an 
hour! 

We had the lioness dragged out into the open. 
She was not an especially large beast, as compared 
to most of the others I killed later, but at that time 
she looked to me about as big as they made them. 
As a matter of fact she was quite big enough, for 
she stood three feet two inches at the shoulder — • 
measure that against the wall — ■ and was seven 
feet and six inches in length. My first bullet had 
hit her leg, and the last had reached her heart. 

Every one shook me by the hand. The gun- 
bearers squatted about the carcass, skilfully removing 
the skin to an undertone of curious crooning that 
every few moments broke out into one or two bars 
of a chant. As the body was uncovered, the men 
crouched about to cut off little pieces of fat. These 
they rubbed on their foreheads and over their chests, 
to make them brave, they said, and cunning, like 
the lion. 

We remounted and took up our interrupted jour- 
ney to camp. It was a little after two, and the heat 
was at its worst. We rode rather sleepily, for the 
reaction from the high tension of excitement had 

1 20 



THE FIRST LION 

set in. Behind us marched the three gunbearers, all 
abreast, very military and proud. Then came the 
porters in single file, the one carrying the folded lion 
skin leading the way; those bearing the waterbuck 
trophy and meat bringing up the rear. They kept 
up an undertone of humming in a minor key; oc- 
casionally breaking into a short musical phrase in 
full voice. 

We rode an hour. The camp looked very cool 
and inviting under its wide high trees, with the river 
slipping by around the islands of papyrus. A num- 
ber of black heads bobbed about in the shallows. 
The small fires sent up little wisps of smoke. Around 
them our boys sprawled, playing simple ganies, 
mending, talking, roasting meat. Their tiny white 
tents gleamed pleasantly among the cool shadows. 

I had thought of riding nonchalantly up to our 
own tents, of dismounting with a careless word of 
greeting 

"Oh, yes," I would say, "we did have a good 
enough day. Pretty hot. Roy got a fine waterbuck. 
Yes, I got a lion." (Tableau on part of Billy.) 

But Memba Sasa used up all the nonchalance 
there was. As we entered camp he remarked cas- 
ually to the nearest man. 

"Bwana na piga simba — the master has killed 
a lion." 

121 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

The man leaped to his feet. 

"Simba! simba! simba!" he yelled. "Na piga 
simba!" 

Every one In camp also leaped to his feet, taking 
up the cry. From the water it was echoed as the 
bathers scrambled ashore. The camp broke into 
pandemonium. We were surrounded by a dense 
struggling mass of men. They reached up scores 
of black hands to grasp my own; they seized from 
me everything portable and bore It In triumph be- 
fore me — my water bottle, my rifle, my camera, my 
whip, my field glasses, even my hat, everything that 
was detachable. Those on the outside danced and 
lifted up their voices in song, improvised for the 
most part, and in honor of the day's work. In a 
vast swirling, laughing, shouting, triumphant mob 
we swept through the camp to where Billy — • by 
now not very much surprised — was waiting to get 
the official news. By the measure of this extrava- 
gant joy could we gauge what the killing of a lion 
means to these people who have always lived under 
the dread of his rule. 



122 



X 

LIONS 

AVERY large lion I killed stood three feet and 
nine inches at the withers, and of course car- 
ried his head higher than that. The top of the 
table at which I sit is only two feet three inches from 
the floor. Coming through the door at my back 
that lion's head would stand over a foot higher 
than halfway up. Look at your own writing desk; 
your own door. Furthermore, he was nine feet 
and eleven inches in a straight line from nose to end 
of tail, or over eleven feet along the contour of the 
back. If he were to rise on his hind feet to strike 
a man down, he would stand somewhere between 
seven and eight feet tall, depending on how nearly 
he straightened up. He weighed just under six 
hundred pounds, or as much as four well-grown 
specimens of our own "mountain lion." I tell you 
this that you may realize, as I did not, the size to 
which a wild lion grows. Either menagerie speci- 
mens are stunted in growth, or their position and 
surroundings tend to belittle them, for certainly 

123 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

until a man sees old Leo in the wilderness he has not 
understood what a fine old chap he is. 

This tremendous weight is sheer strength, A 
lion's carcass when the skin is removed is a really 
beautiful sight. The great muscles lie in ropes and 
bands; the forearm thicker than a man's leg, the 
lithe barrel banded with brawn; the flanks overlaid 
by the long thick muscles. And this power is instinct 
with the nervous force of a highly organized being. 
The lion is quick and intelligent and purposeful; so 
that he brings to his intenser activities the concen- 
tration of vivid passion, whether of anger, of hunger 
or of desire. 

So far the opinions of varied experience will jog 
along together. At this point they diverge. 

Just as the lion is one of the most interesting and 
fascinating of beasts, so concerning him one may 
hear the most diverse opinions. This man will tell 
you that any lion is always dangerous. Another 
will hold the king of beasts in the most utter con- 
tempt as a coward and a skulker. 

In the first place, generalization about any spe- 
cies of animal is an exceedingly dangerous thing. 
I believe that, in the case of the higher animals at 
least, the differences in individual temperament are 
quite likely to be more numerous than the specific 
likenesses. Just as individual men are bright or dull, 

124 



LIONS 

nervous or phlegmatic, cowardly or brave, so in- 
dividual animals vary in like respect. Our own 
hunters will recall from their personal experiences 
how the big bear may have sat down and bawled 
harmlessly for mercy, while the little unconsidered 
fellow did his best until finished ofi^: how one buck 
dropped instantly to a wound that another would 
carry five miles: how of two equally matched war- 
riors of the herd one will give way in the fight, while 
still uninjured, before his perhaps badly wounded 
antagonist. The casual observer might — and 
often does — say that all bears are cowardly, all 
bucks are easily killed, or the reverse, according as 
the god of chance has treated him to one spectacle 
or the other. As well try to generalize on the 
human race — as is a certain ecclesiastical habit — 
that all men are vile or noble, dishonest or upright, 
wise or foolish. 

The higher we go in the scale the truer this in- 
dividualism holds. We are forced to reason not 
from the bulk of observations, but from their aver- 
ages. If we find ten bucks who will go a mile badly 
wounded to two who succumb in their tracks from 
similar hurts, we are justified in saying tentatively 
that the species is tenacious of life. But as ex- 
perience broadens we may modify that statement; 
for strange indeed are runs of luck. 

125 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

For this reason a good deal of the wise conclusion 
we read in sportsmen's narratives is worth very 
little. Few men have experience enough with lions 
to rise to averages through the possibilities of luck. 
Especially is this true of lions. No beast that roams 
seems to go more by luck than felis leo. Good hun- 
ters may search for years without seeing hide nor 
hair of one of the beasts. Selous, one of the greatest, 
went to East Africa for the express purpose of get- 
ting some of the fine beasts there, hunted six weeks 
and saw none. Holmes of the Escarpment has 
lived in the country six years, has hunted a great deal 
and has yet to kill his first. One of the railroad 
officials has for years gone up and down the Uganda 
Railway on his handcar, his rifle ready in hopes of 
the lion that never appeared; though many are there 
seen by those with better fortune. Bronson hunted 
desperately for this great prize, but failed. Rains- 
ford shot no lions his first trip, and ran into them 
only three years later. Read Abel Chapman's 
description of his continued bad luck at even seeing 
the beasts. MacMillan, after five years' unbroken 
good fortune, has in the last two years failed to kill 
a lion, although he has made many trips for the pur- 
pose. F. told me he followed every rumour of a 
lion for two years before he got one. Again, one 
may hear the most marvellous of yarns the other 

126 



LIONS 

way about — • of the German who shot one from the 
train on the way up from Mombasa; of the young 
English tenderfoot who, the first day out, came on 
three asleep, across a river, and potted the lot; and 
so on. The point is, that in the case of lions the 
element of sheer chance seems to begin earlier and 
last longer than is the case with any other beast. 
And, you must remember, experience must thrust 
through the luck element to the solid ground of 
averages before it can have much value in the way 
of generalization. Before he has reached that 
solid ground, a man's opinions depend entirely on 
what kind of lions he chances to meet, in what cir- 
cumstances, and on how matters happen to shape 
in the crowded moments. 

But though lack of sufficiently extended expe- 
rience has much to do with these decided differences 
of opinion, I believe that misapprehension has also 
its part. The sportsman sees lions on the plains. 
Likewise the lions see him, and promptly depart to 
thick cover or rocky butte. He comes on them in 
the scrub; they bound hastily out of sight. He may 
even meet them face to face, but instead of attack- 
ing him, they turn to right and left and make off in 
the long grass. When he follows them, they sneak 
cunningly away. If, added to this, he has the good 
luck to kill one or two stone dead at a single shot 

127 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

each, he begins to think there is not much in lion 
shooting after all, and goes home proclaiming the 
king of beasts a skulking coward. 

After all, on what grounds does he base this con- 
clusion? In what way have circumstances been a 
test of courage at all? The Hon did not stand and 
fight, to be sure; but why should he? What was 
there in it for lions? Behind any action must a 
motive exist. Where is the possible motive for any 
lion to attack on sight? He does not — except 
in unusual cases — eat men; nothing has occurred to 
make him angry. The obvious thing is to avoid 
trouble, unless there is a good reason to seek it. In 
that one evidences the lion's good sense, but not his 
lack of courage. That quality has not been called 
upon at all. 

But if the sportsman had done one of two or three 
things, I am quite sure he would have had a taste of 
our friend's mettle. If he had shot at and even 
grazed the beast; if he had happened upon him 
where an exit was not obvious; or if he had even fol~ 
lowed the lion until the latter had become tired of the 
annoyance, he would very soon have discovered that 
Leo is not all good nature, and that once angered 
his courage will take him in against any odds. 
Furthermore, he may be astonished and dismayed to 
discover that of a group of several lions, two or 

128 



LIONS 

three besides the wounded animal are quite likely to 
take up the quarrel and charge too. In other words, 
in my opinion, the lion avoids trouble when he can, 
not from cowardice but from essential indolence or 
good nature; but does not need to be cornered* to 
fight to the death when in his mind his dignity is 
sufficiently assailed. 

For of all dangerous beasts the lion, when once 
aroused, will alone face odds to the end. The rhinoc- 
eros, the elephant, and even the buffalo can often 
be turned aside by a shot. A lion almost always 
charges home.t Slower and slower he comes, as the 
bullets strike; but he comes, until at last he may be 
just hitching himself along, his face to the enemy, his 
fierce spirit undaunted. When finally he rolls over, 
he bites the earth in great mouthfuls; and so passes, 
fighting to the last. The death of a lion is a fine 
sight. 

No, I must confess, to me the Hon is an object of 
great respect; and so, I gather, he is to all who have 
had really extensive experience. Those like Leslie 
Tarleton, Lord Delamere, W. N. MacMillan, Baron 
von Bronsart, the Hills, Sir Alfred Pease, who are 
great lion men, all concede to the lion a courage and 

*This is an important distinction in estimating the inherent courage of 
man or beast. Even a mouse will fight when cornered. 

fl seem to be generalizing here, but all these conclusions must be under- 
stood to take into consideration the liability of individual variation. 

129 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

tenacity unequalled by any other living beast. My 
own experience is of course nothing as compared to 
that of these men. Yet I saw in my nine months 
afield seventy-one lions. None of these offered to 
attack when unwounded or not annoyed. On the 
other hand, only one turned tail once the battle was 
on, and she proved to be a three quarters grown lion- 
ess, sick and out of condition. 

It is of course indubitable that where lions have 
been much shot they become warier in the matter of 
keeping out of trouble. They retire to cover earlier 
in the morning, and they keep more than a per- 
functory outlook for the casual human being. 
When hunters first began to go into the Sotik the 
lions there would stand imperturbably, staring at 
the intruder with curiosity or indifference. Now 
they have learned that such performances are not 
healthy — and they have probably satisfied their 
curiosity. But neither in the Sotik, nor even in the 
plains around Nairobi itself, does the lion refuse the 
challenge once it has been put up to him squarely. 
Nor does he need to be cornered. He charges in 
quite blithely from the open plain, once convinced 
that you are really an annoyance. 

As to habits! The only sure thing about a lion 
is his originality. He has more exceptions to his 
rules than the German language. Men who have 

130 



LIONS 

been mighty lion hunters for many years, and who 
have brought to their hunting close observation, 
can only tell you what a lion may do in certain cir- 
cumstances. Following very broad principles, they 
may even predict what he is apt to do, but never 
what he certainly will do. That is one thing that 
makes lion hunting interesting. 

In general, then, the lion frequents that part of 
the country where feed the great game herds. From 
them he takes his toll by night, retiring during the 
day into the shallow ravines, the brush patches, or 
the rocky little buttes. I have, however, seen lions 
miles from game, slumbering peacefully atop an ant 
hill. Indeed, occasionally, a pack of lions likes to 
live high in the tall-grass ridges where every hunt 
will mean for them a four-or five-mile jaunt out and 
back again. He needs water, after feeding, and so 
rarely gets farther than eight or ten miles from that 
necessity. 

He hunts at night. This is as nearly invariable 
a rule as can be formulated in regard to lions. Yet 
once, and perhaps twice, I saw lionesses stalking 
through tall grass as early as three o'clock in the 
afternoon. This eagerness may, or may not, have 
had to do with the possession of hungry cubs. The 
lion's customary harmlessness in the daytime is 
best evidenced, however, by the comparative in- 

131 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

difference of the game to his presence then. From 
a hill we watched three of these beasts wandering leis- 
urely across the plains below. A herd of kongonis 
feeding directly in their path, merely moved aside 
right and left, quite deliberately, to leave a passage 
fifty yards or so wide, but otherwise paid not the 
slightest attention. I have several times seen this 
incident, or a modification of it. And yet, conversely, 
on a number of occasions we have received our 
first intimation of the presence of lions by the wild 
stampeding of the game away from a certain spot. 

However, the most of his hunting is done by dark. 
Between the hours of sundown and nine o'clock he 
and his comrades may be heard uttering the deep 
coughing grunt typical of this time of night. These 
curious, short, far-sounding calls may be mere evi- 
dences of intention, or they may be a sort of signal 
by means of which the various hunters keep in 
touch. After a little they cease. Then one is 
quite likely to hear the petulant, alarmed barking 
of zebra, or to feel the vibrations of many hoofs. 
There is a sense of hurried, flurried uneasiness abroad 
on the veldt. 

The lion generally springs on his prey from be- 
hind or a little off the quarter. By the impetus of 
his own weight he hurls his victim forward, doubling 
its head under, and very neatly breaking its neck. 

132 



LIONS 

I have never seen this done, but the process has been 
well observed and attested; and certainly, of the 
many hundreds of lion kills I have taken the pains 
to inspect, the majority had had their necks broken. 
Sometimes, but apparently more rarely, the lion 
kills its prey by a bite in the back of the neck. I 
have seen zebra killed in this fashion, but never any 
of the buck. It may be possible that the lack of 
horns makes it more difficult to break a zebra's 
neck because of the corresponding lack of leverage 
when its head hits the ground sidewise; the instances 
I have noted may have been those in which the lion's 
spring landed too far back to throw the victim prop- 
erly; or perhaps they were merely examples of the 
great variability in the habits oifelis leo. 

Once the kill is made, the lion disembowels the 
beast very neatly indeed, and drags the entrails a 
few feet out of the way. He then eats what he 
wants, and, curiously enough, seems often to be very 
fond of the skin. In fact, lacking other evidence, it 
is occasionally possible to identify a kill as being that 
of a lion by noticing whether any considerable por- 
tion of the hide has been devoured. After eating 
he drinks. Then he is likely to do one of two things : 
either he returns to cover near the carcass and lies 
down, or he wanders slowly and with satisfaction 
toward his happy home. In the latter case the 

133 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

hyenas, jackals, and carrion birds seize their chance. 
The astute hunter can often diagnose the case by the 
general actions and demeanour of these camp fol- 
lowers. A half dozen sour and disgusted looking 
hyenas seated on their haunches at scattered inter- 
vals, and treefuls of mournfully humpbacked vul- 
tures sunk in sadness, indicate that the lion has 
decided to save the rest of his zebra until to-morrow 
and is not far away. On the other hand, a grand 
flapping, snarling Kilkenny-fair of an aggregation 
swirling about one spot in the grass means that the 
principal actor has gone home. 

It is ordinarily useless to expect to see the lion 
actually on his prey. The feeding is done before 
dawn, after which the lion enjoys stretching out in 
the open until the sun is well up, and then retiring 
to the nearest available cover. Still, at the risk of 
seeming to be perpetually qualifying, I must in- 
stance finding three lions actually on the stale car- 
cass of a waterbuck at eleven o'clock in the morning 
of a piping hot day! In an undisturbed country, 
or one not much hunted, the early morning hours up 
to say nine o'clock are quite likely to show you 
lions sauntering leisurely across the open plains 
toward their lairs. They go a little, stop a little, 
yawn, sit down a while, and gradually work their 
way home. At those times you come upon them 

134 



LIONS 

unexpectedly face to face, or, seeing them from afar, 
ride them down in a glorious gallop. Where the 
country has been much hunted, however, the lion 
learns to abandon his kill and seek shelter before 
daylight, and is almost never seen abroad. Then 
one must depend on happening upon him in his 
cover. 

In the actual hunting of his game the lion is ap- 
parently very clever. He understands the value of 
cooperation. Two or more will manoeuvre very 
skilfully to give a third the chance to make an ef- 
fective spring; whereupon the three will share the 
kill. In a rough country, or one otherwise favour- 
able to the method, a pack of lions will often delib- 
erately drive game into narrow ravines or cul de 
sacs where the killers are waiting. 

At such times the man favoured by the chance of 
an encampment within five miles or so can hear a 
lion's roar. 

Otherwise I doubt if he is apt often to get the full- 
voiced, genuine article. The peculiar questioning 
cough of early evening is resonant and deep in vibra- 
tion, but it is a call rather than a roar. No lion is 
fool enough to make a noise when he is stalking. 
Then afterward, when full fed, individuals may 
open up a few times, but only a few times, in sheer 
satisfaction, apparently, at being well fed. The 

135 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

menagerie row at feeding time, formidable as it 
sounds within the echoing walls, is only a mild and 
gentle hint. But when seven or eight lions roar 
merely to see how much noise they can make, as 
when driving game, or trying to stampede your oxen 
on a wagon trip, the effect is something tremendous. 
The very substance of the ground vibrates; the air 
shakes. I can only compare it to the effect of a 
very large deep organ in a very small church. There 
is something genuinely awe-inspiring about it; and 
when the repeated volleys rumble into silence, one 
can imagine the veldt crouched in a rigid terror that 
shall endure. 



13* 



XI 

LIONS AGAIN 

AS TO the dangers of lion hunting it is also 
difficult to write. There is no question that 
a cool man, using good judgment as to just what 
he can or cannot do, should be able to cope with lion 
situations. The modern rifle is capable of stopping 
the beast, provided the bullet goes to the right spot. 
The right spot is large enough to be easy to hit, if 
the shooter keeps cool. Our definition of a cool man 
must comprise the elements of steady nerves under 
super-excitement, the ability to think quickly and 
clearly, and the mildly strategic quality of being 
able to make the best use of awkward circumstances. 
Such a man, barring sheer accidents, should be able 
to hunt lions with absolute certainty for just as 
long as he does not get careless, slipshod or over- 
confident. Accidents — real accidents, not merely 
unexpected happenings — are hardly to be counted. 
They can occur in your own house. 

But to the man not temperamentally qualified, 
lion shooting is dangerous enough. The lion, when 

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THE LAST FRONTIER 

he takes the offensive, intends to get his antagonist. 
Having made up his mind to that, he charges home, 
generally at great speed. The realization that it is 
the man's life or the beast's is disconcerting. Also 
the charging lion is a spectacle much more awe- 
inspiring in reality than the most vivid imagination 
can predict. He looks very large, very determined, 
and has uttered certain rumbling, blood-curdling 
threats as to what he is going to do about it. It 
suddenly seems most undesirable to allow that lion 
to come any closer, not even an inch! A hasty, ner- 
vous shot misses 

An unwounded lion charging from a distance is 
said to start rather slowly, and to increase his pace 
only as he closes. Personally I have never been 
charged by an unwounded beast, but I can testify 
that the wounded animal comes very fast. Cun- 
inghame puts the rate at about seven seconds to the 
hundred yards. Certainly I should say that a man 
charged from fifty yards or so would have little 
chance for a second shot, provided he missed the 
first. A hit seemed, in my experience, to check 
the animal, by sheer force of impact, long enough 
to permit me to throw in another cartridge. A 
lioness thus took four frontal bullets starting at 
about sixty yards. An initial miss would probably 
have permitted her to close. 

138 



LIONS AGAIN 

Here, as can be seen, is a great source of danger to 
a flurried or nervous beginner. He does not want 
that lion to get an inch nearer; he fires at too long a 
range, misses, and is killed or mauled before he can 
reload. This happened precisely so to two young 
friends of MacMillan. They were armed with 
double-rifles, let them off hastily as the beast start- 
led at them from two hundred yards, and never got 
another chance. If they had possessed the expe- 
rience to have waited until the lion had come within 
fifty yards they would have had the almost certainty 
of four barrels at close range. Though I have seen 
a lion missed clean well inside those limits. 

From such performances are so-called lion acci- 
dents built. During my stay in Africa I heard of 
six white men being killed by lions, and a number of 
others mauled. As far as possible I tried to deter- 
mine the facts of each case. In every instance the 
trouble followed either foolishness or loss of nerve. 
I believe I should be quite safe in saying that from 
identically the same circumstances any of the good 
lion men — Tarleton, Lord Delamere, the Hills, and 
others — • would have extricated themselves unharmed. 

This does not mean that accidents may not hap- 
pen. Rifles jam, but generally because of flurried 
manipulation! One may unexpectedly meet the 
lion at too close quarters; a foot may slip, or a cart- 

139 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ridge prove defective. So may one fall downstairs, 
or bump one's head in the dark. Sufficient fore- 
thought and alertness and readiness would go far 
in either case to prevent bad results. 

The wounded beast, of course, offers the most in- 
teresting problem to the lion hunter. If it sees the 
hunter, it is likely to charge him at once. If hit 
while making off, however, it is more apt to take 
cover. Then one must summon all his good sense 
and nerve to get it out. No rules can be given for 
this; nor am I trying to write a text book for lion 
hunters. Any good lion hunter knows a lot more 
about it than I do. But always a man must keep 
in mind three things: that a lion can hide in cover 
so short that it seems to the novice as though a 
jack-rabbit would find scant concealment there; 
that he charges like lightning, and that he can spring 
about fifteen feet. This spring, coming unexpectedly 
from an unseen beast, is about impossible to avoid. 
Sheer luck may land a fatal shot; but even then the 
lion will probably do his damage before he dies. The 
rush from a short distance a good quick shot ought 
to be able to cope with. 

Therefore the wise hunter assures himself of at 
least twenty feet — preferably more — of neutral 
zone all about him. No matter how long it takes, 
he determines absolutely that the lion is not 

140 



LIONS AGAIN 

within that distance. The rest is alertness and 
quickness. 

As I have said, the amount of cover necessary to 
conceal a lion is astonishingly small. He can flatten 
himself out surprisingly; and his tawny colour blends 
so well with the brown grasses that he is practically 
invisible. A practised man does not, of course, look 
for lions at all. He is after unusual small patches, 
especially the black ear tips or the black of the mane. 
Once guessed at, it is interesting to see how quickly 
the hitherto unsuspected animal sketches itself out 
in the cover. 

I should, before passing on to another aspect of 
the matter, mention the dangerous poisons carried 
by the lion's claws. Often men have died from the 
most trivial surface wounds. The grooves of the 
claws carry putrefying meat from the kills. Every 
sensible man in a lion country carries a small syringe, 
and either permanganate or carbolic. And those 
mild little remedies he uses full strength! 

The great and overwhelming advantage is of 
course with the hunter. He possesses as deadly a 
weapon: and that weapon will kill at a distance. 
This is proper, I think. There are more lions than 
hunters; and, from our point of view, the man is 
more important than the beast. The game is not 
too hazardous. By that I mean that, barring sheer 

141 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

accident, a man is sure to come out all right provided 
he does accurately the right thing. In other words, 
it is a dangerous game of skill, but it does not possess 
the blind danger of a forest in a hurricane, say. 
Furthermore, it is a game that no man need play 
unless he wants to. In the lion country he may go 
about his business — daytime business — • as though 
he were home at the farm. 

Such being the case, may I be pardoned for in- 
truding one of my own small ethical ideas at this 
point, with the full realization that it depends upon 
an entirely personal point of view. As far as my 
own case goes, I consider it poor sportsmanship ever 
to refuse a lion-chance merely because the advan- 
tages are not all in my favour. After all, lion hunt- 
ing is on a different plane from ordinary shooting: 
it is a challenge to war, a deliberate seeking for mortal 
combat. Is it not just a little shameful to pot old 
felis leo — at long range, in the open, near his kill, 
and wherever we have him at an advantage — nine 
times, and then to back out because that advantage 
is for once not so marked? I have so often heard 
the phrase, "I let him (or them) alone. It was not 
good enough," meaning that the game looked a little 
risky. 

Do not misunderstand. I am not advising that 
you bull ahead into the long grass, or th^t ^lone 

X42 



LIONS AGAIN 

you open fire on a half dozen lions in easy range. 
Kind providence endowed you with strategy, and 
certainly you should never go in where there is no 
show for you to use your weapon effectively. But 
occasionally the odds will be against you and you 
will be called upon to take more or less of a chance. 
I do not think it is quite square to quit playing merely 
because for once your opponent has been dealt the 
better cards. I£ there are too many of them see if 
you cannot manoeuvre them; if the grass is long, try 
every means in your power to get them out. Stay 
with them. If finally you fail, you will at least have 
the satisfaction of knowing that circumstances alone 
have defeated you. If you do not like that sort of a 
game, stay out of it entirely. 



U3 



XII 

MORE LIONS 

N'ORdo the last remarks of the preceding chapter 
mean that you shall not have your trophy In 
peace. Perhaps excitement and a slight doubt as 
to whether or not you are going to survive do not 
appeal to you; but nevertheless you would like a lion 
skin or so. By all means shoot one lion, or two, or 
three in the safest fashion you can. But after that 
you ought to play the game. 

The surest way to get a lion is to kill a zebra, cut 
holes in him, fill the holes with strychnine, and come 
back next morning. This method is absolutely safe. 

The next safest way is to follow the quarry with a 
pack of especially trained dogs. The lion Is so 
busy and nervous over those dogs that you can walk 
up and shoot him in the ear. This method has the 
excitement of riding and following, the joy of a 
grand and noisy row, and the fun of seeing a good dog- 
fight. The same effect can be got chasing wart-hogs, 
hyenas, jackals — or jack-rabbits. The objection 
is that it wastes a noble beast in an inferior game. 

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MORE LIONS 

My personal opinion is that no man is justified in 
following with dogs any large animal that can be 
captured with reasonable certainty without them. 
The sport of coursing is another matter; but that is 
quite the same in essence whatever the size of the 
quarry. If you want to kill a lion or so quite safely, 
and at the same time enjoy a glorious and exciting 
gallop with lots of accompanying row, by all means 
follow the sport with hounds. But having killed 
one or two by that method, quit. Do not go on and 
clean up the country. You can do it. Poison and 
hounds are the sure methods of finding any lions 
there may be about; and after the first fezVy one is 
about as justifiable as the other. If you want the 
undoubtedly great joy of cross country pursuit, send 
your hounds in after less noble game. 

The third safe method of killing a lion is noc- 
turnal. You lay out a kill beneath a tree, and climb 
the tree. Or better, you hitch out a pig or donkey 
as live bait. When the lion comes to this free lunch, 
you try to see him; and, if you succeed in that, you 
try to shoot him. It is not easy to shoot at night; 
nor is it easy to see in the dark. Furthermore, 
lions only occasionally bother to come to bait. You 
may roost up that tree many nights before you get a 
chance. Once up, you have to stay up; for it is most 
decidedly not safe to go home after dark. The tropi-/ 

145 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

cal night in the highlands is quite chilly. Branches 
seem to be quite as cramping and abrasive under the 
equator as in the temperate zones. Still, it is one 
method. 

Another is to lay out a kill and visit it in the early 
morning. There is more to this, for you are afoot, 
must generally search out your beast in nearby cover, 
and can easily find any amount of excitement in the 
process. 

The fourth way is to ride the lion. The hunter 
sees his quarry returning home across the plains, 
perhaps; or jumps it from some small bushy ravine. 
At once he spurs his horse in pursuit. The lion will 
run but a short distance before coming to a stop, for 
he is not particularly long either of wind or of pa- 
tience. From this stand he almost invariably 
charges. The astute hunter, still mounted, turns and 
flees. When the lion gets tired of chasing, which he 
does in a very short time, the hunter faces about. 
At last the lion sits down in the grass, waiting for the 
game to develop. This is the time for the hunter to 
dismount and to take his shot. Quite likely he 
must now stand a charge afoot, and drop his beast 
before it gets to him. 

This is real fun. It has many elements of safety, 
and many of danger. 

To begin with, the hunter at this game generally 
146 




The lioness that charged when I had only the Springfield 
and no gunbearer. Also Mavrouki and Memba Sasa. 



MORE LIONS 

has companions to back him: often he employs 
mounted Somalis to round the lion up and get it to 
stand. The charging lion is quite apt to make for 
the conspicuous mounted men — who can easily 
escape — ignoring the hunter afoot. As the game 
is largely played in the open, the movements of the 
beast are easily followed. 

On the other hand, there is room for mistake. 
The hunter, for example, should never follow directly 
in the rear of his lion, but rather at a parallel course 
off the beast's flank. Then, if the lion stops sud- 
denly, the man does not overrun before he can check 
his mount. He should never dismount nearer than 
a hundred and fifty yards from the embayed animal; 
and should never try to get off while the lion is 
moving in his direction. Then, too, a hard gallop 
is not conducive to the best of shooting. It is dif- 
ficult to hold the front bead steady; and it is still 
more difl&cult to remember to wait, once the lion 
charges, until he has come near enough for a sure 
shot. A neglect in the inevitable excitement of the 
moment to remember these and a dozen other small 
matters may quite possibly cause trouble. 

Two or three men together can make this one of 
the most exciting mounted games on earth; with 
enough of the give and take of real danger and 
battle to make it worth while. The hunter, how- 

147 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ever, who employs a dozen Somalis to ride the beast 
to a standstill, after which he goes to the front, has 
eliminated much of the thrill. Nor need that man's 
stay-at-home family feel any excessive uneasiness 
over Father Killing Lions in Africa. 

The method that interested me more than any 
other is one exceedingly difficult to follow except 
under favourable circumstances. I refer to tracking 
them down afoot. This requires that your gun- 
bearer should be an expert trailer, for, outside the fact 
that following a soft-padded animal over all sorts 
of ground is a very difficult thing to do, the hunter 
should be free to spy ahead. It is necessary also to 
possess much patience and to endure under many 
disappointments. But on the other hand there is in 
this sport a continuous keen thrill to be enjoyed in 
no other; and he who single handed tracks down and 
kills his lion thus, has well earned the title of shi- 
kari — the Hunter. 

And the last method of all is to trust to the God of 
Chance. The secret of success Is to be always ready 
to take instant advantage of what the moment of- 
fers. 

An occasional hunting story is good In itself: and 
the following will also serve to illustrate what I have 
just been saying. 

We were after that prize, the greater kudu, and 
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MORE LIONS 

in his pursuit had penetrated into some very rough 
country. Our hunting for the time being was over a 
broad bench, perhaps four or five miles wide, below 
a range of mountains. The bench itself broke down 
in sheer cliffs some fifteen hundred feet, but one did 
not appreciate that fact unless he stood fairly on the 
edge of the precipice. To all intents and purposes 
we were on a rolling grassy plain, with low hills and 
cliffs, and a most beautiful little stream running 
down it beneath fine trees. 

Up to now our hunting had gained us little beside 
information: that kudu had occasionally visited the 
region, that they had not been there for a month, 
and that the direction of their departure had been 
obscure. So we worked our way down the stream, 
trying out the possibilities. Of other game there 
seemed to be a fair supply: Impalla, hartebeeste, 
zebra, eland, buffalo, wart-hog, sing-sing, and giraffe 
we had seen. I had secured a wonderful eland and 
a very fine impalla, and we had had a gorgeous close- 
quarters fight with a cheetah.* Now C. had gone 
out, a three weeks' journey, carrying to medical at- 
tendance a port&r Injured in the cheetah fracas. 
Billy and I were continuing the hunt alone. 

We had marched two hours, and were pitching 

*This animal quite disproved the assertion that cheetahs never assume the 
aggressive. He charged repeatedly. 

149- 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

camp under a single tree near the edge of the bench. 
After seeing everything well under way, I took the 
Springfield and crossed the stream, which here ran 
in a deep canon. My object was to see if I could get 
a sing-sing that had bounded away at our approach. 
I did not bother to take a gunbearer, because I did 
not expect to be gone five minutes. 

The canon proved unexpectedly deep and rough, 
and the stream up to my waist. When I had gained 
the top, I found grass growing patchily from six 
inches to two feet high; and small, scrubby trees 
from four to ten feet tall, spaced regularly, but very 
scattered. These little trees hardly formed cover, 
but their aggregation at sufficient distance limited 
the view. 

The sing-sing had evidently found his way over the 
edge of the bench. I turned to go back to camp. 
A duiker — a small grass antelope — broke from a 
little patch of the taller grass, rushed, head down and 
headlong after their fashion, suddenly changed his 
mind, and dashed back again. I stepped forward 
to see why he had changed his mind — and ran into 
two lions! 

They were about thirty yards away, and sat there 
on their haunches, side by side, staring at me with 
expressionless yellow eyes. I stared back. The 
Springfield is a good little gun, and three times be- 

150 



MORE LIONS 

fore I had been forced to shoot lions with it, but my 
real "lion gun" with which I had done best work was 
the 405 Winchester. The Springfield is too light 
for such game. Also there were two lions, very 
close. Also I was quite alone. 

As the game stood, it hardly looked like my move; 
so I held still and waited. Presently one yawned, 
they looked at each other, turned quite leisurely, 
and began to move away at a walk. 

This was a different matter. If I had fired while 
the two were facing me, I should probably have had 
them both to deal with. But now that their tails 
were turned toward me, I should very likely have to 
do with only the one : at the crack of the rifle the other 
would run the way he was headed. So I took a 
careful bead at the lioness and let drive. 

My aim was to cripple the pelvic bone, but, un- 
fortunately, just as I fired, the beast wriggled lithely 
sidewise to pass around a tuft of grass, so that 
the bullet inflicted merely a slight flesh wound 
on the rump. She whirled like a flash, and as she 
raised her head high to locate me, I had time to 
wish that the Springfield hit a trifle harder blow. 
Also I had time to throw another cartridge in the 
barrel. 

The moment she saw me she dropped her head and 
charged. She was thoroughly angry and came very 

151 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

fast. I had just enough time to steady the gold 
bead on her chest and to pull trigger. 

At the shot, to my great relief, she turned bottom 
up, and I saw her tail for an instant above the grass 
— an almost sure indication of a bad hit. She 
thrashed around, and made a tremendous hullabaloo 
of snarls and growls. I backed out slowly, my rifle 
ready. It was no place for me, for the grass v/as 
over knee high. 

Once at a safe distance I blazed a tree with my 
hunting knife and departed for camp, well pleased to 
be out of it. At camp I ate lunch and had a smoke; 
then with Memba Sasa and Mavrouki returned to 
the scene of trouble. I had now the 405 Winchester, 
a light and handy weapon delivering a tremendous 
blow. 

We found the place readily enough. My lioness 
had recovered from the first shock and had gone. I 
was very glad I had gone first. 

The trail was not very plain, but it could be fol- 
lowed a foot or so at a time, with many faults and 
casts back. I walked a yard to one side while the 
men followed the spoor. Owing to the abundance of 
cover it was very nervous work, for the beast might 
be almost anywhere, and would certainly charge. 
We tried to keep a neutral zone around ourselves by 
tossing stones ahead of and on both sides of our line 

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MORE LIONS 

of advance. My own position was not bad, for I had 
the rifle ready in my hand, but the men were in dan- 
ger. Of course I was protecting them as well as I 
could, but there was always a chance that the lion- 
ess might spring on them in such a manner that I 
would be unable to use my weapon. Once I sug- 
gested that as the work was dangerous, they could 
quit if they wanted to. 

"Hapana!" they both refused indignantly. 

We had proceeded thus for half a mile when to our 
relief, right ahead of us, sounded the commanding, 
rumbling half-roar, half-growl of the lion at bay. 

Instantly Memba Sasa and Mavrouki dropped 
back to me. We all peered ahead. One of the 
boys made her out first, crouched under a bush 
thirty-two yards away. Even as I raised the rifle 
she saw us and charged. I caught her in the chest 
before she had come ten feet. The heavy bullet 
stopped her dead. Then she recovered and started 
forward slowly, very weak, but game to the last. 
Another shot finished her. 

The remarkable point of this incident was the 
action of the little Springfield bullet. Evidently 
the very high velocity of this bullet from its shock to 
the nervous system had delivered a paralyzing blow 
sufficient to knock out the lioness for the time 
being. Its damage to tissue, however, was slight. In- 

153 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

asmuch as the initial shock did not cause immediate 
death, the lioness recovered sufficiently to be able, 
two hours later, to take the offensive. This point 
is of the greatest interest to the student of ballistics; 
but it is curious even to the ordinary reader. 

That is a very typical example of finding lions 
by sheer chance. Generally a man is out looking 
for the smallest kind of game when he runs up against 
them. Now happened to follow an equally typical 
example of tracking. 

The next day after the killing of the lioness Mem- 
ba Sasa, Kongoni and I dropped off the bench, and 
hunted greater kudu on a series of terraces fifteen 
hundred feet below. All we found were two rhino ^ 
some sing-sing, a heard of impalla, and a tremendous 
thirst. In the meantime, Mavrouki had, under 
orders, scouted the foothills of the mountain range 
at the back. He reported none but old tracks of 
kudu, but said he had seen eight lions not far from 
our encounter of the day before. 

Therefore, as soon next morning as we could see 
plainly, we again crossed the canon and the waist- 
deep stream. I had with me all three of the gun 
men, and in addition two of the most courageous 
porters to help with the tracking and the looking. 

About eight o'clock we found the first fresh pad 
mark plainly outlined in an isolated piece of soft 

154 



MORE LIONS 

earth. Immediately we began that most fascina- 
ting of games — traihng over difficult ground. In 
this we could all take part, for the tracks were some 
hours old, and the cover scanty. Very rarely could 
we make out more than three successive marks. 
Then we had to spy carefully for the slightest in- 
dication of direction. Kongoni in especial was won- 
derful at this, and time and again picked up a broken 
grass blade or the minutest inch-fraction of disturbed 
earth. We moved slowly, in long hesitations and 
castings about, and in swift little dashes forward of a 
few feet; and often we went astray on false scents, 
only to return finally to the last certain spot. In 
this manner we crossed the little plain with the scat- 
tered shrub trees and arrived at the edge of the low 
bluff above the stream bottom. 

This bottom was well wooded along the immediate 
bank of the stream itself, fringed with low thick 
brush, and in the open spaces grown to the edges with 
high, green, coarse grass. 

As soon as we had managed to follow without fault 
to this grass, our difficulties of trailing were at an 
end. The lions' heavy bodies had made distinct 
paths through the tangle. These paths went for- 
ward sinuously, sometimes separating one from the 
other, sometimes intertwining, sometimes combining 
into one for a short distance. We could not deter- 

^5S 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

mine accurately the number of beasts that had made 
them. 

''They have gone to drink water," said Memba 
Sasa. 

We slipped along the twisting paths, alert for 
indications; came to the edge of the thicket, stooped 
through the fringe, and descended to the stream 
under the tall trees. The soft earth at the water's 
edge was covered with tracks, thickly, overlaid one 
over the other. The boys felt of the earth, examined 
even smelled, and came to the conclusion that the 
beasts must have watered about five o'clock. If 
so, they might be ten miles away, or as many 
rods. 

We had difficulty in determining just where the 
party left this place, until finally Kongoni caught 
sight of suspicious indications over the way. The 
lions had crossed the stream. We did likewise, 
followed the trail out of the thicket, into the grass, 
below the little cliffs parallel to the stream, back into 
the thicket, across the river once more, up the other 
side, in the thicket for a quarter mile, then out into 
the grass on that side, and so on. They were evi- 
dently wandering, rather idly, up the general course 
of the stream. Certainly, unlike most cats, they 
did not mind getting their feet wet, for they crossed 
the stream four times. 

156 



MORE LIONS 

At last the twining paths in the shoulder-high grass 
fanned out separately. We counted. 

"You were right, Mavrouki," said I, "there were 
eight." 

At the end of each path was a beaten-down little 
space where evidently the beasts had been lying 
down. With an exclamation the three gunbearers 
darted forward to investigate. The lairs were 
still warm! Their occupants had evidently made off 
only at our approach! 

Not five minutes later we were halted by a low 
warning growl right ahead. We stopped. The 
boys squatted on their heels close to me, and we con- 
sulted in whispers. 

Of course it would be sheer madness to attack 
eight lions in grass so high we could not see five feet 
in front of us. That went without saying. On 
the other hand, Mavrouki swore that he had yester- 
day seen no small cubs with the band, and our ex- 
amination of the tracks made in soft earth seemed 
to bear him out. The chances were therefore that, 
unless themselves attacked or too close pressed, the 
lions would not attack us. By keeping just in their 
rear we might be able to urge them gently along un- 
til they should enter more open cover. Then we 
could see. 

Therefore we gave the owner of that growl about 

XS7 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

five minutes to forget it, and then advanced very 
cautiously. We soon found where the objector 
had halted, and plainly read by the indications where 
he had stood for a moment or so, and then moved 
on. We slipped along after. 

For five hours we hung at the heels of that band 
of lions, moving very slowly, perfectly willing to 
halt whenever they told us to, and going forward 
again only when we became convinced that they too 
had gone on. Except for the first half hour, we 
were never more than twenty or thirty yards from 
the nearest lion, and often much closer. Three 
or four times I saw slowly gliding yellow bodies 
just ahead of me, but in the circumstances 
it would have been sheer stark lunacy to have 
fired. Probably six or eight times — I did not 
count — ■ we were commanded to stop, and we did 
stop. 

It was very exciting work, but the men never fal- 
tered. Of course I went first, in case one of the 
beasts had the toothache or otherwise did not play 
up to our calculations on good nature. One or the 
other of the gunbearers was always just behind me. 
Only once was any comment made. Kongoni 
looked very closely into my face. 

"There are very many lions," he remarked doubt- 
fully. 

158 




a, 
3 







o 



3 









MORE LIONS 

"Very many lions," I agreed, as though assent- 
ing to a mere statement of fact. 

Although I am convinced there was no real dan- 
ger, as long as we stuck to our plan of campaign, 
nevertheless it was quite interesting to be for so long 
a period so near these great brutes. They led us 
for a mile or so along the course of the stream, some- 
times on one side, sometimes on the other. Several 
times they emerged into better cover, and even into 
the open, but always ducked back into the thick 
again before we ourselves had followed their trail 
to the clear. 

At noon we were halted by the usual growl just 
as we had reached the edge of the river. So we sat 
down on the banks and had lunch. 

Finally our chance came. The trail led us, for 
the dozenth time, from the high grass into the thicket 
along the river. We ducked our heads to enter. 
Memba Sasa, next my shoulder, snapped his fingers 
violently. Following the direction of the brown arm 
that shot over my shoulder, I strained my eyes into 
the dimness of the thicket. At first I could see noth- 
ing at all, but at length a slight motion drew my 
eye. Then I made out the silhouette of a lion's 
head, facing us steadily. One of the rear guard had 
again turned to halt us, but this time where he and 
his surroundings could be seen. 

159 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Luckily I always use a sheard gold bead sight, and 
even in the dimness of the tree-shaded thicket it 
showed up well. The beast was only forty yards 
away, so I fired at his head. He rolled over without 
a sound. 

We took the usual great precautions in determin- 
ihg the genuineness of his demise, then carried him 
into the open. Strangely enough the bullet had 
gone so cleanly into his left eye that it had not even 
broken the edge of the eyelid; so that when skinned 
he did not show a mark. He was a very decent 
maned lion, three feet four inches at the shoulder, 
and nine feet long as he lay. We found that he had 
indeed been the rear guard, and that the rest, on the 
other side of the thicket, had made off at the shot. 
So in spite of the apparent danger of the situation, 
our calculations had worked out perfectly. Also we 
had enjoyed a half day's sport of an intensity quite 
impossible to be extracted from any other method of 
following the lion. 

In trying to guess how any particular lions may 
act, however, you will find yourself often at fault. 
The lion is a very intelligent and crafty beast, and 
addicted to tricks. If you follow a lion to a small 
hill, it is well to go around that hill on the side op- 
posite to that taken by your quarry. You are quite 
likely to meet him for he is clever enough thus to try 

i6o 



MORE LIONS 

to get in your rear. He will lie until you have act- 
ually passed him before breaking off. He will cir- 
cle ahead, then back to confuse his trail. And when 
you catch sight of him in the distance, you would 
never suspect that he knew of your presence at all. 
He saunters slowly, apparently aimlessly, along, 
pausing often, evidently too bored to take any in- 
terest in life. You wait quite breathlessly for him 
to pass behind cover. Then you are going to make 
a very rapid advance, and catch his leisurely re- 
treat. But the moment old Leo does pass behind 
the cover, his appearance of idle stroller vanishes. 
In a dozen bounds he is gone. 

That is what makes lion hunting delightful. 
There are some regions, very near settlements, 
where it is perhaps justifiable to poison these beasts. 
If you are a true sportsman you will confine your 
hound-hunting to those districts. Elsewhere, as 
far as playing fair with a noble beast is concerned, 
you may as well toss a coin to see which you shall 
take — your pack or a strychnine bottle. 



i6i 



XIII 
ON THE MANAGING OF A SAFARI 

WE MADE our way slowly down the river. As 
the elevation dropped, the temperature rose. 
It was very hot indeed during the day, and in the 
evening the air was tepid and caressing, and musical 
with the hum of insects. We sat about quite com- 
fortably in our pajamas, and took our fifteen grains 
of quinine per week against the fever. 

The character of the jungle along the river changed 
imperceptibly, the dhum palms crowding out the 
other trees; until, at our last camp, were nothing 
but palms. The wind in them sounded variously 
like the patter or the gathering onrush of rain. On 
either side the country remained unchanged, 
however. The volcanic hills rolled away to the 
distant ranges. Everywhere grew sparsely the 
low thornbrush, opening sometimes into clear 
plains, closing sometimes into dense thickets. 
One morning we awoke to find that many' sup- 
posedly sober-minded trees had burst into blos- 
som fairly 'over night. They were red, and 

162 



MANAGING A SAFARI 

yellow and white that before were green, a truly 
gorgeous sight. 

Then we turned sharp to the right and began to 
ascend a little tributary brook coming down the 
wide flats from a cleft in the hills. This was pret- 
tily named the Isiola, and, after the first mile or so, 
was not big enough to afford the luxury of a jungle 
of its own. Its banks were generally grassy and 
steep, its thickets few, and its little trees isolated 
in parklike spaces. To either side of it, and almost 
at its level, stretched plains, but plains grown with 
scattered brush and shrubs so that at a mile or two 
one's vista was closed. But for all its scant ten feet 
of width the Isiola stood upon its dignity as a stream. 
We discovered that when we tried to cross. The 
men floundered waist-deep on uncertain bottom; 
the syces received much unsympathetic comment for 
their handling of the animals, and we had to get 
Billy over by a melodramatic "bridge of life" with 
B., F., myself, and Memba Sasa in the title roles. 

Then we pitched camp in the open on the other 
side, sent the horses back from the stream until 
after dark, in fear of the deadly tsetse fly, and pre- 
pared to enjoy a good exploration of the neighbour- 
hood. Whereupon M'ganga rose up to his gaunt 
and terrific height of authority, stretched forth his 
bony arm at right angles, and uttered between eight 

163 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

and nine thousand commands in a high dynamic 
monotone without a single pause for breath. These, 
supplemented by about as many more, resulted in 
(a) a bridge across the stream, and (b) a handa. 

A handa is a delightful African institution. It 
springs from nothing in about two hours, but it 
takes twenty boys with a vitriolic M'ganga back of 
them to bring it about. Some of them carry huge 
backloads of grass, or papyrus, or cat-tail rushes, as 
the case may be; others lug in poles of various lengths 
from where their comrades are cutting them by 
means of their ■pangas. A panga, parenthetically, is 
the safari man's substitute for axe, shovel, pick, 
knife, sickle, lawn-mower, hammer, gatling gun, 
world's library of classics, higher mathematics, grand 
opera, and toothpicks. It looks rather like a ma- 
chete with a very broad end and a slight curved back. 
A good man can do extraordinary things with it. 
Indeed, at this moment, two boys are with this ap- 
parently clumsy implement delicately peeling some 
of the small thorn trees, from the bared trunks of 
which they are stripping long bands of tough inner 
bark. 

With these three raw materials — poles, withes, 
and grass — M'ganga and his men set to work. 
They planted their corner and end poles, they laid 
their rafters, they completed their framework, bind- 

164 



MANAGING A SAFARI 

ing all with the tough withes; then deftly they 
thatched it with the grass. Almost before we had 
settled our own aifairs, M'ganga was standing be- 
fore us smiling. Gone now was his mien of high 
indignation and swirling energy. 

"Banda naquisha," he informed us. 

And we moved in our table and our canvas chairs; 
hung up our water bottles; Billy got out her fancy 
work. Nothing could be pleasanter nor more ap- 
propriate to the climate than this wide low arbour, 
open at either end to the breezes, thatched so thickly 
that the fierce sun could nowhere strike through. 

The men had now settled down to a knowledge of 
what we were like; and things were going smoothly. 
At first the African porter will try it on to see just 
how easy you are likely to prove. If he makes up 
his mind that you really are easy, then you are in 
for infinite petty annoyance, and possibly open 
mutiny. Therefore, for a little while, it is necessary 
to be extremely vigilant, to insist on minute per- 
formance in all circumstances where later you might 
condone an omission. For the same reason punish- 
ment must be more frequent and more severe at the 
outset. It is all a matter of watching the temper of 
the men. If they are cheerful and willing, you are 
not nearly as particular as you would be were their 
spirit becoming sullen. Then the infraction is not 

165 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

so important in itself as an excuse for the punish- 
ment. For when your men get sulky, you watch 
vigilantly for the first and faintest excuse to inflict 
punishment. 

This game always seemed to me very fascinating, 
when played right. It is often played wrong. 
People do not look far enough. Because they see that 
punishment has a most salutary effect on morale, and 
is sometimes efficacious in getting things done that 
otherwise would lag, they jump to the conclusion 
that the only effective way to handle a safari is by 
penalties. By this I do not at all mean that they 
act savagely, or punish to brutal excess. Merely 
they hold rigidly to the letter of the work and the 
day's discipline. Because it is sometimes necessary 
to punish severely slight infractions when the men's 
tempers need sweetening, they always punish slight 
infractions severely. 

And in ordinary circumstances this method un- 
doubtedly results in a very efficient safari. Things 
are done smartly, on time, with a snap. The day's 
march begins without delay; there is a minimum of 
straggling; on arrival the tents are immediately got 
up and the wood and water fetched. But in a tight 
place, men so handled by invariable rule are very apt 
to sit down apathetically, and put the whole thing 
up to the white man. When it comes time to help 

i66 



MANAGING A SAFARI 

out they are not there. The contrast with a well- 
disposed safari cannot be appreciated by one who 
has not seen both. 

The safari-man loves a master. He does not for 
a moment understand any well-meant but mis- 
placed efforts on your part to lighten his work below 
the requirements of custom. Always he will beg 
you to ease up on him, to accord him favour; and al- 
ways he will despise you if you yield. The relations 
of man to man, of man to work, are all long since 
established by immemorial distauri — custom — 
and it is not for you or him to change them lightly. 
If you know what he should or can do, and hold him 
rigidly to it, he will respect and follow you. 

But in order to keep him up to the mark, it is not 
always advisable to light into him with a whip, 
necessary as the whip often is. If he is sullen, or 
inclined to make mischief, then that is the crying 
requirement. But if he is merely careless, or a little 
slow, or tired, you can handle him in other ways. 
Ridicule before his comrades is very effective: a sort 
of good-natured guying, I mean. "Ah! very tired!" 
uttered in the right tone of voice has brought many 
a loiterer to his feet as effectively as the kick some 
men feel must always be bestowed, and quite with- 
out anger, mind you! For days at a time we have 
kept our men travelling at good speed by comment- 

167 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ing, as though by the way, after we had arrived in 
camp, on which tribe happened to come in at the 
head. 

"Ah! Kavirondos came in first to-night," wc 
would remark. "Last night the Monumwezis were 
ahead." 

And once, actually, by this method we succeeded 
in working up such a feeling of rivalry that the 
Kikuyus, the unambitious, weak and despised Kiku- 
yus, led the van! 

But the first hint of insubordination, of intended 
insolence, of wilful shirking must be met by instant 
authority. Occasionally, when the situation is of 
the quick and sharp variety, the white man may have 
to mix in the row himself. He must never hesitate 
an instant; for the only reason he alone can control 
so many is that he has always controlled them. F. 
had a very effective blow, or shove, which I found 
well worth adopting. It is delivered with the heel 
of the palm to the man's chin, and is more of a lift- 
ing, heaving shove than an actual blow. Its effect 
is immediately upsetting. Impertinence is best 
dealt with in this manner on the spot. Evidently 
intended slowness in coming when called is also 
best treated by a flick of the whip — and forget- 
fulness. And so with a half dozen others. But 
any more serious matter should be decided from the 

i68 



MANAGING A SAFARI 

throne of the canvas chair, witness should be heard, 
judgment formally pronounced, and execution in- 
trusted to the askaris or gunbearers. 

It is, as I have said, a most interesting game. It 
demands three sorts of knowledge: first, what a 
safari man is capable of doing; second, what he 
customarily should or should not do; third, an ability 
to read the actual intention or motive back of his 
actions. When you are able to punish or hold your 
hand on these principles, and not merely because 
things have or have not gone smoothly or right, 
then you are a good safari manager. There are 
mighty few of them. 

As for punishment, that is quite simply the whip. 

The average writer on the country speaks of this 
with hushed voice and averted face as a necessity 
but as something to be deprecated and passed over 
as quickly as possible. He does this because he 
thinks he ought to. As a matter of fact, such an 
attitude Is all poppycock. In the flogging of a 
white man, or a black who suffers from such a 
punishment In his soul as well as his body, this is 
all very well. But the safari man expects it. It 
doesn't hurt his feelings in the least, it is ancient 
custom. As well sentimentalize over necessary 
schoolboy punishment, or over father paddy-whack- 
ing little Willie when little Willie has been a bad 

169 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

boy. The chances are your porter will leap to his 
feet, crack his heels together and depart with a 
whoop of joy, grinning from ear to ear. Or he may 
draw himself up and salute you, military fashion, 
again with a grin. In any case his "soul" is not 
*' seared" a little bit, and there is no sense in your- 
self feeling about it as though it were. 

At another slant the justice you will dispense to 
your men differs from our own. Again this is be- 
cause of the teaching long tradition has made part 
of their mental make-up. Our own belief is that it 
Is better to let two guilty men go than to punish one 
innocent. With natives it is the other way about. 
If a crime Is committed the guilty must be punished. 
Preferably he alone is to be dealt with; but in case 
it Is impossible to identify him, then all the members 
of the first inclusive unit must be brought to ac- 
count. This Is the native way of doing things; is 
the only way the native understands; and is the only 
way that in his mind true justice is answered. Thus 
if a sheep is stolen, the thief must be caught and 
punished. Suppose, however it is known to what 
family the thief belongs, but the family refuses to 
disclose which of Its members committed the theft: 
then each member must be punished for sheep steal- 
ing; or- if not the family, then the tribe must make 
restitution. But punishment must be inflicted. 

170 



MANAGING A SAFARI 

There is an essential justice to recommend this, 
outside the fact that it has with the native all the 
solidity of accepted ethics, and it certainly helps to 
run the real criminal to earth. The innocent some- 
times suffers innocently, but not very often; and 
our own records show that in that respect with us 
it is the same. This is not the place to argue the 
right or wrong of the matter from our own standpoint 
but to recognize the fact that it is right from theirs, 
and to act accordingly. Thus in case of theft of 
meat, or something that cannot be traced, it is well 
to call up the witnesses, to prove the alibis, and then 
to place the issue squarely up to those that remain. 
There may be but two, or there may be a dozen. 

"I know you did not all steal the meat," you must 
say, "but I know that one of you did. Unless I 
know which one that is by to-morrow morning I will 
kiboko all of you. Bass/'^ 

Perhaps occasionally you may have to kiboko the 
lot, in the full knowledge that most are innocent. 
That seems hard; and your heart will misgive you. 
Harden it. The "innocent" probably know per- 
fectly well who the guilty man is. And the inci- 
dent builds for the future. 

I had intended nowhere to comment on the poli- 
tics or policies of the country. Nothing is more 
silly than the casual visitor's snap judgments on 

171 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

how a country is run. Nevertheless, I may perhaps 
be pardoned for suggesting that the Government 
would strengthen its hand, and aid its few straggling 
settlers by adopting this native view of retributions. 
For instance, at present it is absolutely impossible 
to identify individual sheep and cattle stealers. 
They operate stealthily and at night. If the Gov- 
ernment cannot identify the actual thief, it gives 
the matter up. As a consequence a great hardship 
is inflicted on the settler, and an evil increases. 
If, however, the Government would hold the vil- 
lage, the district, or the tribe responsible, and exact 
just compensation from such units in every case, 
the evil would very suddenly come to an end. And 
the native's respect for the white man would climb 
in the scale. 

Once the safari man gets confidence in his master, 
that confidence is complete. The white man's duties 
are in his mind clearly defined. His job is to see 
that the black man is fed, is watered, is taken care of 
in every way. The ordinary porter considers him- 
self quite devoid of responsibility. He is also an 
improvident creature, for he drinks all his water 
when he gets thirsty, no matter how long and hot the 
journey before him; he eats his rations all up when 
he happens to get hungry, two days before next dis- 
tribution time; he straggles outrageously at times 

172 



MANAGING A SAFARI 

and has to be rounded up; he works three months 
and, on a whim, deserts two days before the end of 
his journey, thus forfeiting all his wages. Once two 
porters came to us for money. 

"What for.?" asked C. 

"To buy a sheep," said they. 

For two months we had been shooting them all 
the game meat they could eat, but on this occasion 
two days had intervened since the last kill. If 
they had been on trading safari they would have had 
no meat at all. A sheep cost six rupees in that 
country: and they were getting but ten rupees a 
month as wages. In view of the circumstances, and 
for their own good, we refused. Another man once 
insisted on purchasing a cake of violet-scented soap 
for a rupee. Their chief idea of a wild time in 
Nairobi, after return from a long safari, is to sit in a 
chair and drink tea. For this they pay exorbitantly 
at the Somali so-called "hotels." It is a strange 
sight. But then, I have seen cowboys off the range 
or lumberjacks from the river do equally extrav- 
agant and foolish things. 

On the other hand they carry their loads well, 
they march tremendously, they know their camp 
duties and they do them. Under adverse circum- 
stances they are good-natured. I remember C. and 
I, being belated and lost in a driving rain. We wan- 

173 




THE LAST FRONTIER 

dered until nearly midnight. The four or five men 
with us were loaded heavily with the meat and tro- 
phy of a roan. Certainly they must have been very 
tired; for only occasionally could we permit them to 
lay down their loads. Most of the time we were 
actually groping, over boulders, volcanic rocks, 
fallen trees and all sorts of tribulation. The men 
took it as a huge joke, and at every pause laughed 
consumedly. 

In making up a safari one tries to mix in four or 
five tribes. This prevents concerted action in case 
of trouble, for no one tribe will help another. They 
vary both in tribal and individual characteristics, 
of course. For example, the Kikuyus are docile 
but mediocre porters; the Kavirondos strong carriers 
but turbulent and difficult to handle. You are 
very lucky if you happen on a camp jester, one of 
the sort that sings, shouts, or jokes while on the 
march. He is probably not much as a porter, but 
he is worth his wages nevertheless. He may or may 
not aspire to his giddy eminence. We had one droll- 
faced little Kavirondo whose very expression made 
one laugh, and whose rueful remarks on the harsh- 
ness of his lot finally ended by being funny. His 
name got to be a catchword in camp. 

"Mualo! Mualo!" the men would cry, as they 
heaved their burdens to their heads; and all day 

174 



MANAGING A SAFARI 

long their war cry would ring out, "Mualo!" fol- 
lowed by shrieks of laughter. 

Of the other type was Sulimani, a big, one-eyed 
Monumwezi, who had a really keen wit coupled 
with an earnest, solemn manner. This man was no 
buffoon, however; and he was a good porter, always 
at or near the head of the procession. In the great 
jungle south of Kenia we came upon Cuninghame. 
When the head of our safari reached the spot Suli- 
mani left the ranks and, his load still aloft danced 
solemnly in front of Cuninghame, chanting some- 
thing in a loud tone of voice. Then with a final 
deep "Jambo!" to his old master he rejoined the 
safari. When the day had stretched to weariness 
and the men had fallen to a sullen plodding, Suli- 
mani's vigorous song could always set the safari 
sticks tapping the sides of the chop boxes. 

He carried part of the tent, and the next best 
men were entrusted with the cook outfit and our 
personal effects. It was a point of honour with 
these men to be the first in camp. The rear, the 
very extreme and straggling rear, was brought up 
by worthless porters with loads of cornmeal — and 
the weary askaris whose duty it was to keep astern 
and herd the lot in. 



175 



XIV 
A DAY ON THE ISIOLA 

EARLY one morning — we were still on the 
Isiola — we set forth on our horses to ride 
across the rolling, brush-grown plain. Our inten- 
tion was to proceed at right angles to our own little 
stream until we had reached the forest growth of 
another, which we could dimly make out eight or 
ten miles distant. Billy went with us, sD there were 
four a-horseback. Behind us trudged the gun- 
bearers, and the syces, and after them straggled a 
dozen or fifteen porters. 

The sun was just up, and the air was only tepid 
as yet. From patches of high grass whirred and 
rocketed grouse of two sorts. They were so much 
like our own ruffed grouse and prairie chicken that I 
could with no effort imagine myself once more a 
boy in the coverts of the Middle West. Only before 
us we could see the stripes of trotting zebra disap- 
pearing; and catch the glint of light on the bayonets 
of the oryx. Two giraffes galumphed away to the 
right. Little grass antelope darted from clump to 

176 



p 

A DAY ON THE ISIOLA ' 

clump of grass. Once we saw gerenul# — ^oh, far 
away in an impossible distance. Of coij^se we tried 
to stalk them; and as usual we failed. ^Vh.e gerenuk 
we had come to look upon as our Lesse^^oodoo. 

The beast is a gazelle about as big as a black- 
tailed deer. His peculiarity is his excessively long 
neck, a good deal on the giraffe order. With it he 
crops browse above high tide mark of other animals, 
especially when as often happens he balances cleverly 
on his hind legs. By means of it also he can, with 
his body completely concealed, look over the top of 
ordinary cover and see you long before you have 
made out his inconspicuous little head. Then he 
departs. He seems to have a lamentable lack of 
healthy curiosity about you. In that respect he 
should take lessons from the kongoni. After that 
you can follow him as far as you please; you will get 
only glimpses at three or four hundred yards. 

We remounted sadly and rode on. The surface 
of the ground was rather soft, scattered with round 
rocks the size of a man's head, and full of pig holes. 

" Cheerful country to ride over at speed," remarked 
Billy. Later in the day we had occasion to remem- 
ber that statement. 

The plains led us ever on. First would be a band 
of scattered brush growing singly and in small 
clumps: then a little open prairie; then a narrow, 

177 



! » THE LAST FRONTIER 

long grass fewale; then perhaps a low, long hill with 
small singletrees and rough, volcanic footing. Ten 
thousaN.d\ljiings kept us interested. Game was 
everywher^ feeding singly, in groups, in herds, 
game of all sizes and descriptions. The rounded 
ears of jackals pointed at us from the grass. Hun- 
dreds of birds balanced or fluttered about us, birds 
of all sizes from the big ground hornbill to the lit- 
tlest hummers and sun birds. Overhead, across 
the wonderful variegated sky of Africa the broad- 
winged carrion hunters and birds of prey wheeled. 
In all our stay on the Isiola we had not seen a single 
rhino track, so we rode quite care free and happy. 
Finally, across a glade, not over a hundred and 
fifty yards away, we saw a solitary bull oryx stand- 
ing under a bush. B. wanted an oryx. We dis- 
cussed this one idly. He looked to be a decent oryx, 
but nothing especial. However, he ofl'ered a very 
good shot; so B., after some hesitation,decided to take 
it. It proved to be by far the best specimen we 
shot, the horns measuring thirty-six and three 
fourths inches! Almost immediately after, two of 
the rather rare striped hyenas leaped from the grass 
and departed rapidly over the top of a hill. We 
opened fire, and F. dropped one of them. By the 
time these trophies were prepared, the sun had 
mounted high in the heavens, and it was getting hot. 

178 



A DAY ON THE ISIOLA 

Accordingly we abandoned that still distant river 
and swung away in a wide circle to return to camp. 

Several minor adventures brought us to high 
noon and the heat of the day. B. had succeeded in 
drawing a prize, one of the Grevy's or mountain 
zebra. He and the gunbearers engaged themselves 
with that, while we sat under the rather scanty shade 
of a small thorn tree and had lunch. Here we had a 
favourable chance to observe that very common, but 
always wonderful phenomenon, the gathering of the 
carrion birds. Within five minutes after the stoop 
of the first vulture above the carcass, the sky im- 
mediately over that one spot was fairly darkened 
with them. They were as thick as midges — or as 
ducks used to be in California. All sizes were there 
from the little carrion crows to the great dignified 
vultures and marabouts and eagles. The small fry 
flopped and scolded, and rose and fell in a dense 
mass; the marabouts walked with dignified pace to 
and fro through the grass all about. As far as the 
eye could penetrate the blue, it could make out more 
and yet more of the great soarers stooping with 
half bent wings. Below we could see uncertainly 
through the shimmer of the mirage the bent forms of 
the men. 

We ate and waited; and after a little we dozed. I 
was awakened suddenly by a tremendous rushing 

179 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

roar, like the sound of a not too distant waterfall. 
The group of men were plodding toward us carrying 
burdens. And like plummets the birds were 
dropping straight down from the heavens, spreading 
wide their wings at the last moment to check their 
speed. This made the roaring sound that had 
awakened me. 

A wide spot in the shimmer showed black and 
struggling against the ground. I arose and walked 
over, meeting halfway B. and the men carrying the 
meat. It took me probably about two minutes to 
reach the place where the zebra had been killed. 
Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of the great birds 
were standing idly about; a dozen or so were flap- 
ping and scrambling in the centre. I stepped into 
view. With a mighty commotion they all took wing 
clumsily, awkwardly, reluctantly. A trampled, 
bloody space and the larger bones, picked absolutely 
clean, was all that remained! In less than two 
minutes the job had been done! 

"You're certainly good workmen!" I exclaimed, 
"but I wonder how you all make a living!" 

We started the men on to camp with the meat, and 
ourselves rested under the shade. The day had 
been a full and interesting one; but we considered 
it as finished. Remained only the hot journey back 
to camp. 

i8o 




-a 
o 




p 



A DAY ON THE ISIOLA 

After a half hour we mounted again and rode on 
slowly. The sun was very strong and a heavy shim- 
mer clothed the plain. Through this shimmer we 
caught sight of something large and black and flap- 
ping. It looked like a crow — or, better, a scare- 
crow — crippled, half flying, half running, with 
waving wings or arms, now dwindling, now gigantic 
as the mirage caught it up or let it drop. As we 
watched, it developed, and we made it out to be a 
porter, clad in a long, ragged black overcoat, run- 
ning zigzag through the bushes in our direction. 

The moment we identified it we spurred our horses 
forward. As my horse leaped, Memba Sasa snatched 
the Springfield from my left hand and forced the 
405 Winchester upon me. Clever Memba Sasa! 
He no more than we knew what was up, but shrewdly 
concluded that whatever it was it needed a heavy 
gun. 

As we galloped to meet him, the porter stopped. 
We saw him to be a very long-legged, raggedy youth 
whom we had nicknamed the Marabout because of 
his exceedingly long, lean legs, the fact that his 
breeches were white, short and baggy, and because 
he kept his entire head shaved close. He called him- 
self Fundi, which means The Expert, a sufficient 
indication of his confidence in himself. 

He waited us leaning on his safari stick, panting 
181 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

heavily, the sweat running off his face in splashes. 
"Simba!"* said he, and immediately set off on a 
long, easy lope ahead of us. We pulled down to a 
trot and followed him. 

At the end of a half mile we made out a man up a 
tree. Fundi, out of breath, stopped short and 
pointed to this man. The latter, as soon as he had 
seen us, commenced to scramble down. We spurred 
forward to find out where the lions had been last 
seen. 

Then Billy covered herself with glory by seeing 
them first. She apprised us of that fact with some 
excitement. We saw the long, yellow bodies of two 
of them disappearing in the edge of the brush about 
three hundred yards away. With a wild whoop we 
tore after them at a dead run. 

Then began a wild ride. Do you remember Billy's 
remark about the nature of the footing? Before 
long we closed in near enough to catch occasional 
glimpses of the beasts, bounding easily along. At 
that moment B.'s horse went down in a heap. None 
of us thought for a moment of pulling up. I looked 
back to see B. getting up again, and thought I 
caught fragments of encouraging-sounding language. 
Then my horse went down. I managed to hold my 
rifle clear, and to cling to the reins. Did you ever 

*Lion 

X82 



A DAY ON THE ISIOLA 

try to get on a somewhat demoralized horse in a 
frantic hurry, when all your friends were getting far- 
ther away every minute, and so lessening your 
chances of being in the fun? I began to under- 
stand perfectly B.'s remarks of a moment before. 
However, on I scrambled, and soon overtook the 
hunt. 

We dodged in and out of bushes, and around and 
over holes. Every few moments we would catch 
glimpse of one of those silently bounding lions, and 
then we would let out a yell. Also every few mo- 
ments one or the other of us would go down in a 
heap, and would scramble up and curse, and remount 
hastily. Billy had better luck. She had no gun, 
and belonged a little in the rear anyway, but was 
coming along game as a badger for all that. 

My own horse had the legs of the others quite 
easily, and for that reason I was ahead far enough to 
see the magnificent sight of five lions sideways on, 
all in a row, standing in the grass gazing at me with 
a sort of calm and impersonal dignity. I wheeled 
my horse immediately so as to be ready in case of 
a charge, and yelled to the others to hurry up. 
While I sat there, they moved slowly off one after the 
other, so that by the time the men had come, the 
lions had gone. We now had no difficulty in run- 
ning into them again. Once more my better ani- 

183 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

mal brought me to the lead, so that for the second 
time I drew up facing the Hons, and at about one 
hundred yards range. One by one they began to 
leave as before, very leisurely and haughtily, until 
a single old maned fellow remained. He, however, 
sat there, his great round head peering over the top 
of the grass. 

"Well," he seemed to say, "here I am, what do 
you intend to do about it?" 

The others arrived, and we all dismounted. B. 
had not yet killed his lion, so the shot was his. 
Billy very coolly came up behind and held his horse. 
I should like here to remark that Billy is very ter- 
rified of spiders. F. and I stood at the ready, and 
B. sat down. 

Riding fast an exciting mile or so, getting chucked 
on your head two or three times, and facing your 
first lion are none of them conducive to steady shoot- 
ing. The first shot therefore went high, but the 
second hit the lion square in the chest, and he rolled 
over dead. 

We all danced a little war dance, and congratu- 
lated B. and turned to get the meaning of a queer 
little gurgling gasp behind us. There was Fundi! 
That long-legged scarecrow, not content with run- 
ning to get us and then back again, had trailed us 
the whole distance of our mad chase over broken 

184 



A DAY ON THE ISIOLA 

ground at a terrific speed in order to be in at the 
death. And he was just about all in at the death. 
He could barely gasp his breath, his eyes stuck out; 
he looked close to apoplexy. 

"Bwana! bwana!" was all he could say. "Mas- 
ter! master!" 

We shook hands with Fundi. 

"My son," said I, "you're a true sport: and you'll 
surely get yours later." 

He did not understand me, but he grinned. The 
gunbearers began to drift in, also completely pumped. 
They set up a feeble shout when they saw the dead 
lion. It was a good maned beast, three feet six 
inches at the shoulder, and nine feet long. 

We left Fundi with the lion, instructing him to 
stay there until some of the other men came up. 
We remounted and pushed on slowly in hopes of 
coming on one of the others. 

Here and there we rode, our courses interweaving, 
looking eagerly. And lo! through a tiny opening 
in the brush we espied one of those elusive gerenuk 
standing not over one hundred yards away. Where- 
upon I dismounted and did some of the worst shooting 
I perpetrated in Africa, for I let loose three times at 
him before I landed. But land I did, and there was 
one Lesser Hoodoo broken. Truly this was our day. 

We measured him and started to prepare the tro- 

185 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

phy, when to us came Mavrouki and a porter, quite 
out of breath, but able to tell us that they had been 
scouting around and had seen two of the lions. 
Then, instead of leaving one up a tree to watch, both 
had come pell-mell to tell us all about it. We 
pointed this out to them, and called their attention 
to the fact that the brush was wide, that lions are 
not stationary objects, and that, unlike the leopard, 
they can change their spots quite readily. How- 
ever, we remounted and went to take a look. 

Of course there was nothing. So we rode on, 
rather aimlessly, weaving in and out of the bushes 
and open spaces. I think we were all a little tired 
from the long day and the excitement, and hence a 
bit listless. Suddenly we were fairly shaken out of 
our saddles by an angry roar just ahead. Usually 
a lion growls, low and thunderous, when he wants, 
to warn you that you have gone about far enough; 
but this one was angry all through at being followed 
about so much, and he just plain yelled at us. 

He crouched near a bush forty yards away, and 
was switching his tail. I had heard that this was 
a sure premonition of an instant charge, but I had 
not before realized exactly what "switching the 
tail" meant. I had thought of it as a slow sweeping 
from side to side, after the manner of the domestic 
cat. This lion's tail was whirling perpendicularly 

i86 



A DAY ON THE ISIOLA 

from right to left, and from left to right with the 
speed and energy of a flail actuated by a particularly 
instantaneous kind of machinery. I could see only 
the outline of the head and this vigorous tail; but 
I took instant aim and let drive. The whole affair 
sank out of sight. 

We made a detour around the dead lion without 
stopping to examine him, shouting to one of the 
men to stay and watch the carcass. Billy alone 
seemed uninfected with the now prevalent idea that 
we were likely to find lions almost anywhere. Her 
skepticism was justified. We found no more lions; 
but another miracle took place for all that. We 
ran across the second imbecile gerenuk, and B. col- 
lected it! These two were the only ones we ever 
got within decent shot of, and they sandwiched 
themselves neatly with lions. Truly, it was our 
day. 

After a time we gave it up, and went back to 
measure and photograph our latest prize. It proved 
to be a male, maneless, two inches shorter than that 
killed by B., and three feet five and one half inches 
tall at the shoulder. My bullet had reached the 
brain just over the left eye. 

Now, toward sunset, we headed definitely to- 
ward camp. The long shadows and beautiful 
lights of evening were falling across the hills far the 

187 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

other side the Isiola. A little breeze with a touch of 
coolness breathed down from distant unseen Kenia. 
We plodded on through the grass quite happily, 
noting the different animals coming out to the cool 
of the evening. The line of brush that marked the 
course of the Isiola came imperceptibly nearer until 
we could make out the white gleam of the porters' 
tents and wisps of smoke curling upward. 

Then a small black mass disengaged itself from the 
camp and came slowly across the prairie in our direc- 
tion. As it approached we made it out to be our 
Monumwezis, twenty strong. The news of the lions 
had reached them, and they were coming to meet us. 

They were huddled in a close knot, their heads 
inclined toward the centre. Each man carried up- 
right a peeled white wand. They moved in abso- 
lute unison and rhythm, on a slanting zigzag in our 
direction: first three steps to the right, then three to 
the left, with a strong stamp of the foot between. 
Their bodies swayed together. Sulimani led them, 
dancing backward, his wand upheld. 

"Sheeka!" he enunciated in a piercing half whis- 
per. 

And the swaying men responded in chorus, half 
hushed, rumbling, with strong aspiration. 

"Goom zoop! goom zoop!^^ 

When fifty yards from us, however, the forma- 
188 



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Fundi. 



A DAY ON THE ISIOLA 

tion broke and they rushed us with a yell. Our 
horses plunged in astonishment, and we had hard 
work to prevent their bolting, small blame to 'em! 
The men surrounded us, shaking our hands fran- 
tically. At once they appropriated everything we 
or our gunbearers carried. One who got left other- 
wise, insisted on having Billy's parasol. Then we 
all broke for camp at full speed, yelling like fiends, 
firing our revolvers in the air. It was a grand entry, 
and a grand reception. The rest of the camp poured 
out with wild shouts. The dark forms thronged 
about us, teeth flashing, arms waving. And in the 
background, under the shadows of the trees were 
the Monumwezis, their formation regained, close 
gathered, heads bent, two steps swaying to the right 

— stamp! — • two steps swaying to the left — stamp! 

— the white wands gleaming, and the rumble of 
their lion song rolling in an undertone: 

" Goom zoop! goom zoop! " 



189 



XV 
THE LION DANCE 

WE TOOK our hot baths and sat down to supper 
most gratefully, for we were tired. The long 
string of men, bearing each a log of wood, filed in 
from the darkness to add to our pile of fuel. Saa- 
sita and Shamba knelt and built the night fire. 
In a moment the little flame licked up through the 
carefully arranged structure. We finished the meal, 
and the boys whisked away the table. 

Then out in the blackness beyond our little globe 
of light we became aware of a dull confusion, a rust- 
ling to and fro. Through the shadows the eye could 
guess at movement. The confusion steadied to a 
kind of rhythm, and into the circle of the fire came 
the group of Monumwezis. Again they were gath- 
ered together in a compact little mass; but now 
they were bent nearly double, and were stripped to 
the red blankets about their waists. Before them 
writhed Sulimani, close to earth, darting irregularly 
now to right, now to left, wriggling, spreading his 
arms abroad. He was repeating over and over again 

190 



THE LION DANCE 

two phrases; or rather the same phrase in two such 
different intonations that they seemed to convey 
quite separate meanings. 

^^ Ka soompeelef^ he cried with a strongly appeal- 
ing interrogation. 

^^ Ka soompeele'"'^ he repeated with the downward 
inflection of decided affirmation. 

And the bent men, their dark bodies gleaming in 
the firelight, stamping in rhythm every third step, 
chorused in a deep rumbling bass: 

"Goom zoop! goom zoop!''^ 

Thus they advanced; circled between us and the 
fire, and withdrew to the half darkness, where tire- 
lessly they continued the same reiterations. 

Hardly had they withdrawn when another group 
danced forward in their places. These were the 
Kikuyus. They had discarded completely their 
safari clothes, and now came forth dressed out in 
skins, in strips of white cloth, with feathers, shells 
and various ornaments. They carried white wands 
to represent spears, and they sang their tribal lion song. 
A soloist delivered the main argument in a high wav- 
ering minor and was followed by a deep rumbling 
emphatic chorus of repetition, strongly accented so 
that the sheer rhythm of it was most pronounced: 

"An-gee a Ka ga 
An-gee a Ka ga 

191 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

An-gee a Ka ga 
Ki ya Ka ga 

Ka ga an gee ya!" 

Solemnly and loftily, their eyes fixed straight be- 
fore them they made the circle of the fire, passed 
before our chairs, and withdrew to the half 
light. There, a few paces from the stamping, 
crouching Monumwezis, they continued their 
performance. 

The next to appear were the Wakambas. These 
were more histrionic. They too were unrecogniz- 
able as our porters, for they too had for the occas- 
ion discarded their work-a-day garments In favour of 
savagery. They produced a pantomime of the day's 
doings, very realistic indeed, ending with a half 
dozen of dark swaying bodies swinging and shudder- 
ing in the long grass as lions, while the "horses" wove 
in and out among the crouching forms, all done to 
the beat of rhythm. Past us swept the hunt, and in 
its turn melted into the half light. 

The Kavirondos next appeared, the most fan- 
tastically caparisoned of the lot, fine big black men, 
their eyes rolling with excitement. They had cap- 
tured our flag from its place before the big tent, and 
were rallied close about this, dancing fantastically. 
Before us they leaped and stamped and shook their 
spears and shouted out their full-voiced song, while 

192 



THE LION DANCE 

the other three tribes danced each its specialty dimly 
in the background. 

The dance thus begun lasted for fully two hours. 
Each tribe took a turn before us, only to give way to 
the next. We had leisure to notice minutiae, such 
as the ingenious tail one of the "lions" had con- 
structed from a sweater. As time went on, the 
men worked themselves to a frenzy. From the 
serried ranks every once in a while one would break 
forth with a shriek to rush headlong into the fire, to 
beat the earth about him with his club, to rush over 
to shake one of us violently by the hand, or even to 
seize one of our feet between his two palms. Then 
with equal abruptness back he darted to regain his 
place among the dancers. Wilder and wilder be- 
came the movements, higher rose the voices. The 
mock lion hunt grew more realistic, and the slaugh- 
ter on both sides, something tremendous. Lower 
and lower crouched the Monumwezi, drawing apart 
with their deep "goom"; drawing suddenly to a 
common centre with the sharp ^^zoop!^'* Only the 
Kikuyus held their lofty bearing as they rolled forth 
their chant, but the mounting excitement showed in 
their tense muscles and the rolling of their eyes. 
The sweat glistened on naked black and bronze 
bodies. Among the Monumwezi to my astonish- 
ment I saw Alemba Sasa, stripped like the rest, and 

193 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

dancing with all abandon. The firelight leaped 
high among the logs that eager hands cast on it; and 
the shadows it threw from the swirling, leaping fig- 
ures wavered out into a great, calm darkness. 

The night guard understood a little of the native 
languages, so he stood behind our chairs and told 
us in Swahili the meaning of some of the repeated 
phrases. 

"This has been a glorious day: few safaris have 
had so glorious a day." 

"The masters looked upon the fierce lions and did 
not run away." 

"Brave men without other weapons will never- 
theless kill with a knife." 

"The masters' mothers must be brave women, the 
masters are so brave." 

"The white woman went hunting, and so were 
many lions killed." 

The last one pleased Billy. She felt that at last 
she was appreciated. 

We sat there spellbound by the weird savagery of 
the spectacle — the great licking fire, the dancing, 
barbaric figures, the rise and fall of the rhythm, the 
dust and shuffle, the ebb and flow of the dance, the 
dim, half-guessed groups swaying in the darkness — 
and overhead the calm tropic night. 

At last, fairly exhausted, they stopped. Some one 
194 



THE LION DANCE 

gave a signal. The men all gathered in one group, 
uttered a final yell, very like a cheer, and dispersed. 
We called up the heroes of the day — Fundi and 
his companion — and made a little speech, and be- 
stowed appropriate reward. Then we turned in. 



I9S 



XVI 
FUNDI 

FUNDI, as I have suggested, was built very 
much on the lines of the marabout stork. He 
was about twenty years old, carried himself very 
erect, and looked one straight in the eye. His total 
assets when he came to us were a pair of raggedy 
white breeches, very baggy, and an old mesh under- 
shirt, ditto ditto. To this we added a jersey, a red 
blanket, and a water bottle. At the first oppor- 
tunity he constructed himself a pair of rawhide 
sandals. 

Throughout the first part of the trip he had ap- 
plied himself to business and carried his load. He 
never made trouble. Then he and his companion 
saw five lions; and the chance Fundi had evidently 
long been awaiting came to his hand. He ran him- 
self almost into coma, exhibited himself game, and 
so fell under our especial and distinguished notice. 
After participating whole-heartedly in the lion dance 
he and his companion were singled out for Our 
Distinguished Favour, to the extent of five rupees 

ly6 



FUNDI 

per. This far Fundi's history reads just like the 
history of any ordinary Captain of Industry. 

Next morning, after the interesting ceremony of 
rewarding the worthy, we moved on to a new camp 
When the line-up was called for, lo! there stood 
Fundi, without a load, but holding firmly my double- 
barrelled rifle. Evidently he had seized the 
chance of favour — and the rifle — and intended to 
be no longer a porter but a second gun-bearer. 
This looked interesting, so we said nothing. 
Fundi marched the day through very proudly. 
At evening he deposited the rifle in the proper 
place, and set to work with a will at raising the 
big tent. 

The day following he tried it again. It worked. 
The third day he marched deliberately up past the 
syce to take his place near me. And the fourth day, 
as we were going hunting, Fundi calmly fell in with 
the rest. Nothing had been said, but Fundi had 
definitely grasped his chance to rise from the ranks. 
In this he differed from his companion in glory. 
That worthy citizen pocketed his five rupees and 
was never heard from again; I do not even remember 
his name nor how he looked. 

I killed a buck of some sort, and Memba Sasa, 
as usual, stepped forward to attend to the trophy. 
But I stopped him. 

197 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

"Fundi," said I, "if you are a gunbearer, prepare 
this beast." 

He stepped up confidently and set to work. I 
watched him closely. He did it very well, without 
awkwardness, though he made one or two minor 
mistakes in method. 

"Have you done this before.''" I inquired. 

"No, bwana." 

"How did you learn to do it.^" 

"I have watched the gunbearers when I was a 
porter bringing in meat.* 

This was pleasing, but it would never do, at this 
stage of the game, to let him think so, neither on his 
own account nor that of the real gunbearers. 

"You will bring in meat to-day also," said I, for 
I was indeed a little shorthanded, "and you will 
learn how to make the top incision straighter." 

When we had reached camp I handed him the 
Springfield. 

"Clean this," I told him. 

He departed with it, returning it after a time for 
my inspection. It looked all right. I catechized 
him on the method he had employed — for high 
velocities require very especial treatment — and 
found him letter perfect. 



*Except in the greatest emergencies a real gunbearer would never think of 
carrying any sort of a burden. 

198 



FUNDI 

"You learned this also by watching?" 

"Yes, bwana, I watched the gunbearers by the 
fire, evenings." 

Evidently Fundi had been preparing for his 
chance. 

Next day, as he walked alongside, I noticed that 
he had not removed the leather cap, or sight pro- 
tector, that covers the end of the rifle and is fast- 
ened on by a leather thong. Immediately I called 
a halt. 

"Fundi," said I, "do you know that the cover 
should be in your pocket? Suppose a rhinoceros 
jumps up very near at hand: how can you get time 
to unlace the thong and hand me the rifle?" 

He thrust the rifle at me suddenly. In some 
magical fashion the sight cover had disappeared! 

"I have thought of this," said he, "and I have tied 
the thong, so, in order that it come away with one 
pull, and I snatch it off, so, with my left hand while 
I am giving you the gun with my right hand. It 
seemed good to keep the cover on, for there are 
many branches, and the sight is very easy to injure." 

Of course this was good sense, and most ingenious; 
Fundi bade fair to be quite a boy, but the native 
African is very easily spoiled. Therefore, although 
my inclination was strongly to praise him, I did 
nothing of the sort. 

199 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

"A gunbearer carries the gun away from the 
branches," was my only comment. 

Shortly after occurred an incident by way of 
deeper test. We were all riding rather idly along 
the easy slope below the foothills. The grass was 
short, so we thought we could see easily everything 
there was to be seen; but, as we passed some thirty 
yards from a small tree, an unexpected and unneces- 
sary rhinoceros rose from an equally unexpected 
and unnecessary green hollow beneath the tree, and 
charged us. He made straight for Billy. Her 
mule, panicstricken, froze with terror in spite of 
Billy's attack with a parasol. I spurred my own 
animal between her and the charging brute, with 
some vague Idea of slipping off the other side as the 
rhino struck. F. and B. leaped from their own ani- 
mals, and F., with a little .28 calibre rifle, took 
a hasty shot at the big brute. Now, of course 
a .28 calibre rifle would hardly injure a rhino, 
but the bullet happened to catch his right shoulder 
just as he was about to come down on his 
right foot. The shock tripped him up as neat- 
ly as though he had been upset by a rope. At 
the same Instant Billy's mule came to its senses 
and bolted, whereupon I too jumped off. The 
whole thing took about two finger snaps of 
time. At the instant I hit the ground. Fundi 

200 



FUNDI 

passed the double rifle across the horse's back 
to me. 

Note two things to the credit of Fundi: in the first 
place, he had not bolted; in the second place, in- 
stead of running up to the left side of my mount and 
perhaps colliding with and certainly confusing me, he 
had come up on the right side and passed the rifle 
to me across the horse. I do not know whether or 
not he had figured this out beforehand, but it was 
cleverly" done. 

The rhinoceros rolled over and over, like a shot 
rabbit, kicked for a moment, and came to his feet. 
We were now all ready for him, in battle array, but 
he had evidently had enough. He turned at right 
angles and trotted off, apparently — and probably 
— none the worse for the little bullet in his shoulder. 

Fundi now began acquiring things that he sup- 
posed befitting to his dignity. The first of these 
matters was a faded fez, in which he stuck a long 
feather. From that he progressed in worldly wealth. 
How he got it all, on what credit, or with what 
hypnotic power, I do not know. Probably he hypoth- 
ecated his wages, certainly he had his five rupees. 
At any rate he started out with a ragged undershirt 
and a pair of white, baggy breeches. He entered 
Nairobi at the end of the trip with a cap, a neat 
khaki shirt, two water bottles, a cartridge belt, a 

20I 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

sash with a tassel, a pair of spiral puttees, an old 
pair of shoes, and a personal private small boy, 
picked up en route from some of the savage tribes, 
to carry his cooking pot, make his fires, draw his 
water, and generally perform his lordly behests. 
This was indeed "more-than-oriental-splendour!" 

From now on Fundi considered himself my sec- 
ond gunbearer. I had no use for him, but Fundi's 
development interested me, and I wanted to give 
him a chance. His main fault at first was eagerness. 
He had to be rapped pretty sharply and a good 
number of times before he discovered that he really 
must walk in the rear. His habit of calling my at- 
tention to perfectly obvious things I cured by liberal 
sarcasm. His intense desire to take his own line as 
perhaps opposed to mine when we were casting about 
on trail, I abated kindly but firmly with the toe of 
my boot. His evident but mistaken tendency to 
consider himself on an equality with Memba Sasa 
we both squelched by giving him the hard and dirty 
work to do. But his faults were never those of 
voluntary omission, and he came on surprisingly; 
in fact so surprisingly that he began to get quite 
cocky over it. Not that he was ever In the least 
aggressive or disrespectful or neglectful — it would 
have been easy to deal with that sort of thing — 
but he carried his head pretty high, and evidently 

202 



FUNDI 

began to have mental reservations. Fundi needed 
a little wholesome discipline. He was forgetting 
his porter days, and was rapidly coming to consider 
himself a full-fledged gunbearer. 

The occasion soon arose. We were returning 
from a buffalo hunt and ran across two rhinoceroses, 
one of which carried a splendid horn. B. wanted a 
well developed specimen very much, so we took this 
chance. The approach was easy enough, and at 
seventy yards or so B. knocked her flat with a bullet 
from his .465 Holland. The beast was immediately 
afoot, but was as promptly smothered by shots from 
us all. So far the affair was very simple, but now 
came complication. The second rhinoceros re- 
fused to leave. We did not want to kill it, so we 
spent a lot of time and pains shooing it away. 
We showered rocks and clods of earth in his direc- 
tion; we yelled sharply and whistled shrilly. The 
brute faced here and there, his pig eyes blinking, his 
snout upraised, trying to locate us, and declining 
to budge. At length he gave us up as hopeless, and 
trotted away slowly. We let him go, and when we 
thought he had quite departed, we approached to 
examine B.'s trophy. 

Whereupon the other craftily returned; and 
charged us, snorting like an engine blowing off steam. 
This was a genuine premeditated charge, as op- 

20-; 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

posed to a blind rush, and It is offered as a good 
example of the sort. 

The rhinoceros had come fairly close before we 
got into action. He headed straight for F. and my- 
self, with B. a little to one side. Things happened 
very quickly. F. and I each planted a heavy bullet 
in his head; while B. sent a lighter Winchester bullet 
into the ribs. The rhino went down in a heap eleven 
yards away, and one of us promptly shot him in the 
spine to finish him. 

Personally I was entirely concentrated in the 
matter at hand — as is always the way in crises re- 
quiring action — and got very few impressions from 
anything outside. Nevertheless I imagined, sub- 
consciously that I had heard four shots. F. and B. 
disclaimed more than one apiece, so I concluded my- 
self mistaken, exchanged my heavy rifle with Fundi 
for the lighter Winchester, and we started for camp, 
leaving all the boys to attend to the dead rhinos. 
At camp I threw down the lever of my Winchester — 
and drew out an exploded shell! 

Here was a double crime on Fundi's part. In the 
first place, he had fired the gun, a thing no gun- 
bearer is supposed ever to do in any circumstances 
short of the disarmament and actual mauling of his 
master. Naturally this is so, for the white man 
must be able in an emergency to depend absolutely 

204 



FUNDI 

on his second gun being loaded and ready for his 
need. In the second place, Fundi had given me an 
empty rifle to carry home. Such a weapon is worse 
than none in case of trouble: at least I could have 
gone up a tree in the latter case. I would have 
looked sweet snapping that old cartridge at any- 
thing dangerous! 

Therefore after supper we stationed ourselves in 
a row before the fire, seated in our canvas chairs, 
and with due formality sent word that we wanted 
all the gunbearers. They came and stood before 
us. Memba Sasa erect, military, compact, looking 
us straight in the eye; Mavrouki slightly bent for- 
ward, his face alive with the little crafty, calculating 
smile peculiar to him; Simba, tall and suave, stand- 
ing with much social ease; and Fundi, a trifle fright- 
ened, but uncertain as to whether or not he had been 
found out. 

We stated the matter in a few words. 

"Gunbearers, this man Fundi, when the rhinoc- 
eros charged, fired Winchi. Was this the work of a 
gunbearer.'"' 

The three seasoned men looked at each other with 
shocked astonishment that such depravity could exist. 

"And being frightened, he gave back Winchi with 
the exploded cartridge in her. Was that the work 
of a gunbearer.^" 

205 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

"No, bwana," said Fundi humbly. 

"You, the gunbearers, have been called because 
we wish to know what should be done with this 
man Fundi." 

It should be here explained that it is not custo- 
mary to kiboko, or flog, men of the gunbearer class. 
They respect themselves and their calling, and would 
never stand that sort of punishment. When one 
blunders, a sarcastic scolding is generally sufficient; 
a more serious fault may be punished on the spot by 
the white man's fist; or a really bad dereliction may 
cause the man's instant degradation from the post. 
With this in mind we had called the council of gun- 
bearers. Memba Sasa spoke. 

"Bwana," said he, "this man is not a true gun- 
bearer. He is no longer a true porter. He carries 
a gun in the field, like a gunbearer; and he knows 
much of the duty of gunbearer. Also he does not run 
away nor climb trees. But he carries in the meat; 
and he is not a real gunbearer. He is half porter 
and half gunbearer." 

"What punishment shall he have?" 

"Kiboko," said they. 

"Thank you. Bass!'' 

They went, leaving Fundi. We surveyed him 
quietly. 

"You a gunbearer!" said we at last. "Memba 

206 



FUNDI 

Sasa says you are half gunbearer. He was wrong. 
You are all porter; and you know no more than they 
do. It is in our mind to put you back to carrying a 
load. If you do not wish to taste the kiboko, you 
can take a load to-morrow." 

"The kiboko, bwana," pleaded Fundi, very 
abashed and humble. 

"Furthermore," we added crushingly, "you did 
not even hit the rhinoceros!" 

So with all ceremony he got the kiboko. The 
incident did him a lot of good, and toned down his 
exuberance somewhat. Nevertheless he still re- 
quired a good deal of training, just as does a promis- 
ing bird dog in its first season. Generally his faults 
were of over-eagerness. Indeed, once he got me 
thoroughly angry in face of another rhinoceros by 
dancing just out of reach with the heavy rifle, in- 
stead of sticking close to me where I could get at 
him. I temporarily forgot the rhino, and ad- 
vanced on Fundi with the full intention of 
knocking his fool head off. Whereupon this six 
feet something of most superb and insolent 
pride wilted down to a small boy with his elbow 
before his face. 

"Don't hit, bwana! Don't hit!" he begged. 

The whole thing was so comical, especially with 
Memba Sasa standing by virtuous and scornful, 

207 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

that I had hard work to keep from laughing. For- 
tunately the rhinoceros behaved himself. 

The proud moment of Fundi's life was when the 
safari entered Nairobi at the end of the first 'expe- 
dition. He had gone forth with a load on his head, 
rags on his back, and his only glory was the self- 
assumed one of the name he had taken — Fundi, 
the Expert. He returned carrying a rifle, rigged 
from top to toe in new garments and fancy accoutre- 
ments, followed by a toto, or small boy, he had 
bought from some of the savage tribes to carry his 
blanket and cooking pot for him. To the friends 
who darted out to the line of march, he was gracious, 
but he held his head high, and had no time for mere 
persiflage. 

I did not take Fundi on my second expedition, for 
I had no real use for a second gunbearer. Several 
times subsequently I saw him on the streets of 
Nairobi. Always he came up to greet me, and ask 
solicitously if I would not give him a job. This I 
was unable to do. When we paid ofl', I had made 
an addition to his porter's wages, and had written 
him a chit. This said that the boy had the makings 
of a gunbearer with further training. It would 
have been unfair to possible white employers to have 
said more. Fundi was, when I left the country, 
precisely in the position of any young man who tries 

208 



FUNDI 

to rise in the world. He would not again take a load 
as porter, and he was not yet skilled enough or known 
enough to pick up more than stray jobs as gunbearer. 
Before him was struggle and hard times, with a cer- 
tainty of a highly considered profession if he won 
through. Behind him was steady work without out- 
lets for ambition. It was distinctly up to him to 
prove whether he had done well to reach for am- 
bition, or whether he would have done better in 
contentment with his old lot. And that is in es- 
sence a good deal like our own world isn't it? 



aog 



XVII 

NATIVES 

UP TO this time, save for a few Masai at the 
very beginning of our trip, we had seen no 
natives at all. Only lately, the night of the lion 
dance, one of the Wanderobo — the forest hunters 
— had drifted in to tell us of buffalo and to get some 
meat. He was a simple soul, small and capable, of 
a beautiful red-brown, with his hair done up in a 
tight, short queue. He wore three skewers about 
six inches long thrust through each of his ears, three 
strings of blue beads on his neck, a bracelet tight 
around his upper arm, a bangle around his ankle, a 
pair of rawhide sandals, and about a half yard of 
cotton cloth which he hung from one shoulder. As 
weapons he carried a round-headed, heavy club, or 
runga, and a long-bladed spear. He led us to buf- 
falo, accepted a thirty-three cent blanket, and made 
fire with two sticks in about thirty seconds. The 
only other evidences of human life we had come 
across were a few beehives suspended in the trees. 
These were logs, bored hollow and stopped at either 



NATIVES 

end. Some of them were very quaintly carved. 
They hung In the trees like strange fruits. 

Now, however, after leaving the Isiola, we were 
to quit the game country and for days travel among 
the swarming millions of the jungle. 

A few preliminary, and entirely random obser- 
vations may be permitted me by way of clearing the 
ground for a conception of these people. These ob- 
servations do not pretend to be ethnological, nor 
even common logical. 

The first thing for an American to realize Is that 
our own negro population came mainly from the 
West Coast, and differed utterly from these peoples 
of the highlands in the East. Therefore one must 
first of all get rid of the mental Image of our own 
negro "dressed up" In savage garb. Many of these 
tribes are not negro at all — the Somalis, the Nandl, 
and the Masai, for example — while others belong 
to the negroid and Nilotic races. Their colour is In 
general cast more on the red-bronze than the black, 
though the Kavirondos and some others are black 
enough. The texture of their skin is very satiny 
and wonderful. This perfection Is probably due to 
the constant anointing of the body with oils of va- 
rious sorts. As a usual thing they are a fine lot 
physically. The southern Masai will average be- 
tween six and seven feet in height, and are almost 

211 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

invariably well built. Of most tribes the physical 
development is remarkably strong and graceful; and 
a great many of the women will display a rounded, 
firm, high-breasted physique in marked contrast to 
the blacks of the lowlands. Of the different tribes 
possibly the Kikuyus are apt to count the most 
weakly and spindly examples: though some of these 
people, perhaps a majority, are well made. 

Furthermore, the native differentiates himself 
still further in impression from our negro in his car- 
riage and the mental attitude that lies behind it. 
Our people are trying to pattern themselves on white 
men, and succeed in giving a more or less shambling 
imitation thereof. The native has standards, ideas, 
and ideals that perfectly satisfy him, and that an- 
tedated the white man's coming by thousands of 
years. The consciousness of this reflects itself in 
his outward bearing. He does not shuffle; he is not 
either obsequious or impudent. Even when he ac- 
knowledges the white man's divinity and pays it 
appropriate respect, he does not lose the poise of his 
own well-worked-out attitude toward life and toward 
himself. 

We are fond of calling these people primitive. 
In the world's standard of measurement they are 
primitive, very primitive indeed. But ordinarily 
by that term, we niean also undeveloped, embryonic 

213 



NATIVES 

In that sense we are wrong. Instead of being at the 
very dawn of human development, these people arc 
at the end — as far as they themselves are concerned. 
The original racial Impulse that started them down 
the years toward development has fulfilled its duty 
and spent Its force. They have worked out all their 
problems, established all their customs, arranged 
the world and its phenomena in a philosophy to their 
complete satisfaction. They have lived, ethnolo- 
gists tell us, for thousands, perhaps hundreds of 
thousands of years, just as we find them to-day. 
From our standpoint that is in a hopeless intellectual 
darkness: for they know absolutely nothing of the 
most elementary subjects of knowledge. From their 
standpoint, however, they have reached the highest 
desirable pinnacle of human development. Noth- 
ing remains to be changed. Their customs, re- 
ligions, and duties have been worked out and im- 
mutably established long ago; and nobody dreams 
of questioning either their wisdom or their Impera- 
tive necessity. They are the conservatives of the 
world. 

Nor must we conclude — looking at them with 
the eyes of our own civilization — that the savage 
is, from his standpoint, lazy and idle. His life is 
laid out more rigidly than ours will be for a great 
many thousands of years. From childhood to old 

213 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

age he performs his every act in accord with pro- 
hibitions and requirements. He must remember 
them all; for ignorance does not divert consequences. 
He must observe them all; in pain of terrible pun- 
ishments. For example, never may he cultivate 
on the site of a grave; and the plants that spring up 
from it must never be cut.* He must make cer- 
tain complicated offerings before venturing to har- 
vest a crop. On crossing the first stream of a jour- 
ney he must touch his lips with the end of his wetted 
bow, wade across, drop a stone on the far side, and 
then drink. If he cuts his nails, he must throw the 
parings into a thicket. If he drink from a stream, 
and also cross it, he must eject a mouthful of water 
back into the stream. He must be particularly 
careful not to look his mother-in-law in the face. 
Hundreds of omens by the manner of their hap- 
pening may modify actions, as, on what side of the 
road a woodpecker calls, or in which direction 
hyena or jackal crosses the path, how the ground 
hornbill flies or alights, and the like. He must 
notice these things, and change his plans according 
to their occurrence. If he does not notice them, they 
exercise their influence just the same. This does not 
encourage a distrait mental attitude. Also it goes 



*0f course all customs are not universal among the different tribes. I am 
merely illustrating, 

214 



NATIVES 

far to explain otherwise unexplalnable visitations. 
Truly, as Hobley says in his unexcelled work on the 
A-Kamba, "the life of a savage native is a complex 
matter, and he is hedged round by all sorts of rules 
and prohibitions, the infringment of which will prob- 
ably cause his death, if only by the intense belief 
he has in the rules which guide his life." 

For these rules and customs he never attempts to 
give a reason. They are; and that is all there is to 
it. A mere statement: "This is the custom" set- 
tles the matter finally. There is no necessity, nor 
passing thought even, of finding any logical cause. 
The matter was worked out in the mental 'evolution 
of remote ancestors. At that time, perhaps, in- 
surgent and Standpatter, Conservative and Radical 
fought out the questions of the day, and the Muck- 
rakers swung by their tails and chattered about it. 
Those days are all long since over. The questions of 
the world are settled forever. The people have 
passed through the struggles of their formative pe- 
riod to the ultimate highest perfection of adjustment 
to material and spiritual environment of which 
they were capable under the influence of their origi- 
nal racial force. 

Parenthetically, it is now a question whether or 
not an added impulse can be communicated from 
without. Such an impulse must (a) unsettle all 

215 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the old beliefs, (b) Inspire an era of skepticism, (c) 
reintroduce the old struggle of ideas between the 
Insurgent and the Standpatter, and Radical and 
the Conservative, (d) in the meantime furnish, from 
the older civilization, materials, both in the thought- 
world and in the object-world, for building slowly 
a new set of customs more closely approximating 
those we are building for ourselves. This is a longer 
and slower and more complicated affair than teach- 
ing the native to wear clothes and sing hymns; or 
to build houses and drink gin; but it is what must 
be accomplished step by step before the African 
peoples are really civilized. I, personally, do not 
think it can be done. 

Now having, a hundred thousand years or so ago, 
worked out the highest good of the human race, ac- 
cording to them, what must they say to themselves 
and what must their attitude be when the white 
man has come and has unrolled his carpet of won- 
derful tricks.'* The dilemma is evident. Either 
we, as black men, must admit that our hundred- 
thousand-year-old Ideas as to what constitutes the 
highest type of human relation to environment Is all 
wrong, or else we must evolve a new attitude to- 
ward this new phenomena. It is human nature to 
do the latter. Therefore the native has not aban- 
doned his old gods; nor has he adopted a new. He 

216 



NATIVES 

still believes firmly that his way is the best way of 
doing things, but he acknowledges the Superman. 

To the Superman, with all races, anything is pos- 
sible. Only our superman is an idea, and ideal. 
The native has his superman before him in the actual 
flesh. 

We will suppose that our own superman has ap- 
peared among us, accomplishing things that ap- 
parantly contravene all our established tenets of 
skill, of intellect, of possibility. It will be readily 
acknowledged that such an individual would at 
first create some astonishment. He wanders into 
a crowded hotel lobby, let us say, evidently with the 
desire of going to the bar. Instead of pushing labori- 
ously through the crowd, he floats just above their 
heads, gets his drink, and floats out again! That 
is levitation, and is probably just as simple to him 
as striking a match is to you and me. After we get 
thoroughly accustomed to him and his life, we are no 
longer vastly astonished, though always interested, 
at the various manifestations of his extraordinary 
powers. We go right along using the marvellous 
wireless, aeroplanes, motor cars, constructive machin- 
ery, and the like that make us confident — justly, 
of course — that we are about the smartest lot of 
people on earth. And if we see red, white, and blue 
streamers of light crossing the zenith at noon, we 

217 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

do not manifest any very profound amazement. 
"There's that confounded Superman again," we 
mutter, if we happen to be busy. "I wonder what 
stunt he's going to do now!" 

A consideration of the above beautiful fable may 
go a little way toward explaining the supposed native 
stolidity in the face of the white man's wonders. A 
few years ago some misguided person brought a bal- 
loon to Nairobi. The balloon interested the white 
people a lot, but everybody was chiefly occupied in 
wondering what the natives would do when they 
saw that! The natives did not do anything. They 
gathered in large numbers, and most interestedly 
watched it go up, and then went home again. But 
they were not stricken with wonder to any great ex- 
tent. So also with locomotives, motor cars, tele- 
phones, phonographs — any of our modern ingenu- 
ities. The native is pleased and entertained, but 
not astonished. "Stupid creature, no imagination," 
say we, because our pride in showing off is a wee bit 
hurt. 

Why should he be astonished. His mental rev- 
olution took place when he saw the first match 
struck. It is manifestly Impossible for any one to 
make fire Instantaneously by rubbing one small 
stick. When for the first time he saw It done, he 
was indeed vastly astounded. The immutable had 

218 



NATIVES 

been changed. The law had been transcended. 
The impossible had been accomplished. And then, 
as logical sequence, his mind completed the syllogism. 
If the white man can do this impossibility, why not 
all the rest.'' To defy the laws of nature by flying 
in the air or forcing great masses of iron to transport 
one, is no more wonderful than to defy them by 
striking a light. Since the white man can provedly 
do one, what earthly reason exists why he should 
not do anything else that hits his fancy.'' There is 
nothing to get astonished at. 

This does not necessarily mean that the native 
looks on the white man as a god. On the contrary, 
your African is very shrewd in the reading of char- 
acter. But indubitably white men possess great 
magic, uncertain in its extent. 

That is as far as I should care to go, without 
much deeper acquaintance, into the attitude of the 
native mind toward the whites. A superficial study 
of it, beyond the general principals I have enunci- 
ated, discloses many strange contradictions. The 
native respects the wnite man's warlike skill, he 
respects his physical prowess, he certainly acknowl- 
edges tacitly his moral superiority in the right to 
command. In case of dispute he likes the white 
man's adjudication; in case of illness the man's 
medicine; in case of trouble the white man's sus- 

219 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

taining hand. Yet he almost never attempts to 
copy the white man's appearance or ways of doing 
things. His own savage customs and habits he ful- 
fils with as much pride as ever in their eternal fit- 
ness. Once I was badgering Memba Sasa, asking 
him whether he thought the white skin or the black 
skin the more ornamental. "You are not white," 
he retorted at last. "That," pointing to a leaf of my 
notebook, "is white. You are red. I do not like 
the looks of red people." 

They call our speech the "snake language," be- 
cause of its hissing sound. Once this is brought to 
your attention, indeed, you cannot help noticing the 
superabundance of the sibilants. 

A queer melange the pigeonholes of an African's 
brain must contain — fear and respect, strongly 
mingled with clear estimate of intrinsic character of 
individuals and a satisfaction with his own standards. 

Nor, I think, do we realize sufficiently the actual 
fundamental differences between the African and our 
peoples. Physically they must be in many ways as 
different from our selves as though they actually be- 
longed to a different species. The Masai are a fine 
big race, enduring, well developed and efficient. 
They live exclusively on cow's milk mixed with 
blood; no meat, no fruit, no vegetables, no grain; 
just that and nothing more! Obviously they must 

220 



NATIVES 

differ from us most radically, or else all our dietetic 
theories are wrong. It is a well-known fact that 
any native requires a triple dose of white man's 
medicine. Furthermore a native's sensitivenesss to 
pain is very much less than the white man's. This 
is indubitable. For example, the Wakamba file — 
or, rather, chip, by means of a small chisel — all 
their front teeth down to needle points. When 
these happen to fall out, the warrior substitutes an 
artificial tooth which he drives down Into the socket. 
If the savage got the same effects from such a per- 
formance that a white man's dental system would 
arouse, even "savage stoicism" would hardly do 
him much good. There Is nothing to be gained by 
multiplying examples. Every African traveller can 
recall a thousand. 

Incidentally, and by the way, I want to add to the 
milk-and-blood joke on dietetics another on the 
physical culturists. We are all familiar with the 
wails over the loss of our toe nails. You know what 
I mean; they run somewhat like this: shoes are the 
curse of civilization; if we wear them much longer we 
shall not only lose the intended use of our feet, but 
we shall lose our toe nails as well; the savage man, 
etc., etc., etc. Now I saw a great many of said 
savage men in Africa, and I got much Interested In 
their toe nails, because I soon found that our owa 

S2l 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

civilized "imprisoned" toe nails were very much 
better developed. In fact, a large number of the 
free and untramelled savages have hardly any toe 
nails at all! Whether this upsets a theory, nullifies 
a sentimental protest, or merely stands as an excep- 
tion, I should not dare guess. But the fact is in- 
dubitable. 



Md 



XVIII 
IN THE JUNGLE 

(a) THE MARCH TO MERU 

NOW, one day we left the Isiola River and cut 
across on a long upward slant to the left. In 
a very short time we had left the plains, and were 
adrift in an ocean of brown grass that concealed all 
but the bobbing loads atop the safari, and over which 
we could only see when mounted. It was glorious 
feed, apparently, but it contained very few animals 
for all that. An animal could without doubt wax 
fat and sleek therein: but only to furnish light and 
salutary meals to beasts of prey. Long grass makes 
easy stalking. We saw a few ostriches, some giraffe, 
and three or four singly adventurous oryx. The 
ripening grasses were softer than a rippling field of 
grain; and even more beautiful in their umber reds 
and browns. Although apparently we travelled on 
a level, nevertheless in the extreme distance the 
plains of our hunting were dropping below, and the 
far off mountains were slowly rising above the hori- 
zon. On the other side were two very green hills, 

223 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

looking nearly straight up and down, and through a 
cleft the splintered snow-clad summit of Mt. Kenia. 

At length this gentle foothill slope broke over into 
rougher country. Then, in the pass, we came upon 
many parallel beaten paths, wider and straighter 
than the game trails — native tracks. That night 
we camped in a small, round valley under some 
glorious trees, with green grass around us; a refresh- 
ing contrast after the desert brown. In the distance 
ahead stood a big hill, and at its base we could make 
out amid the tree-green, the straight slim smoke of 
many fires and the threads of many roads. 

We began our next morning's march early, and 
we dropped over the hill into a wide, cultivated 
valley. Fields of grain, mostly rape, were planted 
irregularly among big scattered trees. The morning 
air, warming under the sun, was as yet still, and 
carried sound well. The cooing, chattering and 
calling of thousands of birds mingled with shouts 
and the clapping together of pieces of wood. As we 
came closer we saw that every so often scaffolds had 
been erected overlooking the grain, and on these 
scaffolds naked boys danced and yelled and worked 
clappers to scare the birds from the crops. They 
seemed to put a great deal of vigour into the job; 
whether from natural enthusiasm or efficient direful 
supervision I could not say. Certainly they must 

224 



IN THE JUNGLE 

have worked in watches, however; no human being 
could keep up that row continuously for a single 
day, let alone the whole season of ripening grain. 
As we passed they fell silent and stared their fill. 

On the banks of a boggy little stream that we had 
to flounder across we came on a gentleman and lady 
travelling. They were a tall, well formed pair, 
mahogany in colour, with the open, pleasant ex- 
pression of most of these jungle peoples. The man 
wore a string around his waist into which was thrust 
a small leafy branch; the woman had on a beautiful 
skirt made by halving a banana leaf, using the stem 
as belt, and letting the leaf part hang down as a 
skirt. Shortly after meeting these people we turned 
sharp to the right on a well beaten road. 

For nearly two weeks we were to follow this road, 
so it may be as well to get an idea of it. Its course 
was a segment of about a sixth of the circle of Ken- 
ia's foothills. With Kenia itself as a centre, this 
road swung among the lower elevations about the 
base of that great mountain. Its course was mainly 
down and up hundreds of the caiions radiating from 
the main peak, and over the ridges between them. 
No sooner were we down, than we had to climb up; 
and no sooner were we up, than once more down we 
had to plunge. At times, however, we crossed 
considerable plateaus. Most of this country was 

225 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

dense jungle, so dense that we could not see on either 
side more than fifteen or twenty feet. Occasion- 
ally, atop the ridges, however, we would come upon 
small open parks. In these jungles live millions of 
human beings. 

At once, as soon as we had turned into the main 
road, we began to meet people. In the grain fields 
of the valley we saw only the elevated boys, and a 
few men engaged in weaving a little house perched 
on stilts. We came across some of these little 
houses all completed, with conical roofs. They 
were evidently used for granaries. As we mounted 
the slope on the other side, however, the trees closed 
in, and we found ourselves marching down the nar-^ 
row aisle of the jungle itself. 

It was a dense and beautiful jungle, with very tall' 
trees and the deepest shade; and the impenetrable 
tangle to the edge of the track. Among the trees 
were the broad leaves of bananas and palms, the 
fling of leafy vines. Over the track these branches 
leaned, so that we rode through splashing sunlight 
and mottling shade. Nothing could have seemed 
wilder than this apparently impenetrable growth; 
and yet we had ridden but a short distance before 
we realized that we were in fact passing through 
cultivated land. It was, again, only a difference in 
terms. Native cultivation in this district rarely 

226 



IN THE JUNGLE 

consists of clearing land and planting crops in due 
order, but in leaving the forest proper as it is, and 
in planting foodstuffs haphazard wherever a tiny 
space can be made for even three hills of corn or a 
single banana. Thus they add to rather than sub- 
tract from the typical density of the jungle. At first, 
we found, it took some practice to tell a farm when 
we saw it. 

From the track narrow little paths wound im- 
mediately out of sight. Sometimes we saw a wisp 
of smoke rising above the undergrowth and eddying 
in the tops of the trees. Long vine ropes swung 
from point to point, hung at intervals with such 
matters as feathers, bones, miniature shields, carved 
sticks, shells and clappers: either as magic or to 
keep off the birds. From either side the track 
we were conscious always of bright black eyes watch- 
ing us. Sometimes we caught a glimpse of their 
owners crouched in the bush, concealed behind ba- 
nana leaves, motionless and straight against a tree 
trunk. When they saw themselves observed they 
vanished without a sound. 

The upper air was musical with birds, and bright 
with the flutter of their wings. Rarely did we see 
them long enough to catch a fair idea of their size 
and shape. They flashed from shade to shade, 
leaving only 9.11 impression of brilliant colour, 

327 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

There were some exceptions: as the widower-bird, 
dressed all in black, with long trailing wing-plumes 
of which he seemed very proud; and the various sorts 
of green pigeons and parrots. There were many 
flowering shrubs and trees: and the air was laden 
with perfume. Strange, too, it seemed to see tall 
trees with leaves three or four feet long and half as 
many wide. 

We were riding a mile or so ahead of the safari. 
At first we were accompanied only by our gunbearers 
and syces. Before long, however, we began to accu- 
mulate a following. 

This consisted at first of a very wonderful young 
man, probably a chief's son. He carried a long 
bright spear, wore a short sword thrust through a 
girdle, had his hair done in three wrapped queues, 
one over each temple and one behind, and was 
generally brought to a high state of polish by means 
of red earth and oil. About his knee he wore a little 
bell that jingled pleasingly at every step. From one 
shoulder hung a goat-skin cloak embroidered with 
steel beads. A small package neatly done up in 
leaves probably contained his lunch. He teetered 
along with a mincing up and down step, every 
movement, and the expression of his face display- 
ing a fatuous self-satisfaction. When we looked 
back again this youth had magically become two. 

828 



IN THE JUNGLE 

Then appeared two women and a white goat. All 
except the goat were dressed for visiting, with long 
chains of beads, bracelets and anklets, and heavy 
ornaments in the distended ear lobes. The manner 
people sprang apparently out of the ground was 
very disconcerting. It was a good deal Hke those 
fairy-story moving pictures where a wave of the wand 
produces beautiful ladies. By half an hour we had 
acquired a long retinue — young warriors, old men, 
women and innumerable children. After we had 
passed, the new recruits stepped quietly from the 
shadow of the jungle and fell in. Every one with 
nothing much to do evidently made up his mind he 
might as well go to Meru now as any other time. 

Also we met a great number of people going in the 
other direction. Women were bearing loads of 
yams. Chiefs' sons minced along, their spears 
poised in their left hands at just the proper angle, 
their bangles jingling, their right hands carried 
raised in a most affected manner. Their social ease 
was remarkable, especially in contrast with the awk- 
wardness of the lower poverty-stricken or menial 
castes. The latter drew one side to let us pass, and 
stared. Our chiefs' sons, on the other hand, stepped 
springingly and beamingly forward; spat carefully 
in their hands (we did the same); shook hands 
all down the line: exchanged a long-drawn '^moo- 

229 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

o-ga!'* with each of us; and departed at the same 
springing rapid gait. The ordinary warriors greeted 
us, but did not offer to shake hands, thank goodness! 
There were a great many of them. Across the val- 
leys and through the open spaces the sun, as it 
struck down the trail, was always flashing back from 
distant spears. Twice we met flocks of sheep being 
moved from one point to another. Three or four 
herdsmen and innumerable small boys seemed to 
be in charge. Occasionally we met a real chief or 
headman of a village, distinguished by the fact that 
he or a servant carried a small wooden stool. With 
these dignitaries we always stopped to exchange 
friendly words. 

These comprised the travelling public. The resi- 
dent public also showed itself quite in evidence. 
Once our retainers had become sufficiently numer- 
ous to inspire confidence, the jungle people no longer 
hid. On the contrary, they came out to the very 
edge of the track to exchange greetings. They were 
very good-natured, exceedingly well-formed, and 
quite jocular with our boys. Especially did our 
suave and elegant Simba sparkle. This resident 
public, called from its daily labours and duties, did 
not always show as gaudy a make-up as did the 
dressed-up travelling public. Banana leaves were 
popular wear, and seemed to us at once pretty and 

230 



IN THE JUNGLE 

fresh. To be sure some had rather withered away; 
but even wool will shrink. We saw some grass 
skirts, like the Sunday-school pictures. 

At noon we stopped under a tree by a little stream 
for lunch. Before long a dozen women were lined 
up in front of us staring at Billy with all their might. 
She nodded and smiled at them. Thereupon they 
sent one of their number away. The messenger 
returned after a few moments carrying a bunch of 
the small eating bananas which she laid at our feet. 
Billy fished some beads out of her saddle bags, and 
presented them. Friendly relations having been 
thus fully established, two or three of the women 
scurried hastily away, to return a few moments later 
each with her small child. To these infants they 
carefully and earnestly pointed out Billy and her 
wonders, talking in a tongue unknown to us. The 
admonition undoubtedly ran something like this: 

"Now, my child, look well at this: for when you 
get to be a very old person you will be able to look 
back at the day when with your own eyes you be- 
held a white woman. See all the strange things she 
wears — and hasn't she a funny face.'"' 

We offered these bung-eyed and totally naked 
youngsters various bribes in the way of beads, the 
tinfoil from chocolate, and even a small piece of the 
chocolate itself. Most of them howled and hid their 

231 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

faces against their mothers. The mothers looked scan- 
dalized, and hypocriticall7 astounded, and mortified. 
They made remarks, still in an unknown language, 
but which much past experience enabled me to 
translate very readily: 

"I don't know what has got Into little Willie," 
was the drift of it. " I have never known him to act 
this way before. Why, only yesterday I was saying 
to his father that it really seemed as though that 
child never cried " 

It made me feel quite friendly and at home. 

Now at last came two marvellous and magnificent 
personages before whom the women and children 
drew back to a respectful distance. These potentates 
squatted down and smiled at us engagingly. Evi- 
dently this was a really important couple, so we 
called up Simba, who knew the language, and had a 
talk. 

They were old men, straight, and very tall, with 
the hawk-faced, high-headed dignity of the true 
aristocrat. Their robes were voluminous, of some 
short-haired skins, beautifully embroidered. Around 
their arms were armlets of polished buffalo horn. 
They wore most elaborate ear ornaments, and long 
carved marquise rings extending well beyond the 
first joints of the fingers. Very fine old gentlemen. 
They were quite unarmed. 

232 




"In a very short time we had left the plains, and were 
adrift in an ocean of grass." 




"By half an hour we had acquired a long retinue. 




"The native quarters lying in the hollow." 



■ '--':■ Tm 




"In short, it was a genunic, .slichLiul, well-kept golf course.' 



IN THE JUNGLE 

After appropriate greetings, we learned that these 
were the chief and his prime minister of a nearby 
village hidden in the jungle. We exchanged polite 
phrases; then offered tobacco. This was accepted. 
From the jungle came a youth carrying more ba- 
nanas. We indicated our pleasure. The old men 
arose with great dignity and departed, sweeping the 
women and children before them. 

We rode on. Our acquired retinue, which had 
waited at a respectful distance, went on too. I 
suppose they must have desired the prestige of be- 
ing attached to Our Persons. In the depths of the 
forest Billy succumbed to the temptation to bargain, 
and made her first trade. Her prize was a long water 
gourd strapped with leather and decorated with 
cowry shells. Our boys were completely scandalized 
at the price she paid for it, so I fear the wily savage 
got ahead of her. 

About the middle of the afternoon we sat down to 
wait for the safari to catch up. It would never do 
to cheat our boys out of their anticipated grand en- 
trance to the Government post at Meru. We finally 
debouched from the forest to the great clearing at 
the head of a most impressive procession, flags flying, 
oryx horns blowing, boys chanting and beating the 
sides of their loads with the safari sticks. As there 
happened to be gathered, at this time, several thou- 

233 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

sand of warriors for the purpose of a council, or 
shauri, with the District Commissioner we had just 
the audience to delight our barbaric hearts. 

(b) MERU 

The Government post at Meru is situated in a 
clearing won from the forest on the first gentle slopes 
of Kenia's ranges. The clearing is a very large one, 
and on it the grass grows green and short, like a 
lawn. It resembles, as much as anything else, the 
rolling, beautiful downs of a first-class country club: 
and the illusion is enhanced by the Commissioner's 
house among some trees atop a hill. Well-kept 
roadways railed with rustic fences lead from the 
house to the native quarters lying in the hollow and 
to the Government offices atop another hill. Then 
also there are the quarters of the Nubian troops; 
round low houses with conical grass roofs. 

These, and the presence everywhere of savages, 
rather take away from the first country-club effect. 
A corral seemed full of a seething mob of natives; 
we found later that this was the market, a place of 
exchange. Groups wandered idly here and there 
across the greensward; and other groups sat in cir- 
cles under the shade of trees, each man's spear stuck 
in the ground behind him. At stated points were 
the Nubians, fine, tall, black, soldierly men, with 

234 



IN THE JUNGLE 

red fez, khaki shirt, and short breeches, bare knees 
and feet, spiral puttees, and a broad red sash of 
webbing. One of these soldiers assigned us a place 
to camp. We directed our safari there, and then 
immediately rode over to pay our respects to the 
Commissioner. 

The latter, Home by name, greeted us with the 
utmost cordiality, and offered us cool drinks. Then 
we accompanied him to a grand shauri or council 
of chiefs. 

Home was a little chap, dressed in flannels and 
a big slouch hat, carrying only a light rawhide whip, 
with very little of the dignity and "side" usually 
considered necessary in dealing with wild natives. 
The post at Meru had been established only two 
years, among a people that had always been very 
difficult, and had only recently ceased open hos- 
tilities. Nevertheless in that length of time Home's 
personal influence had won them over to positive 
friendliness. He had, moreover, done the entire con- 
struction work of the post itself; and this we now 
saw to be even more elaborate than we had at first 
realized. Irrigating ditches ran in all directions 
brimming with clear mountain water; the roads 
and paths were rounded, graded and gravelled; the 
houses were substantial, well built and well kept; 
fences, except of course the rustic, were whitewashed ; 

235 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the native quarters and "barracks" were well ar- 
ranged and in perfect order. The place looked ten 
years old Instead of only two. 

We followed Home to an enclosure, outside the gate 
of which were stacked a great number of spears. 
Inside we found the owners of those spears squatted 
before the open side of a small, three-walled build- 
ing containing a table and a chair. Home placed 
himself In the chair, lounged back, and hit the table 
smartly with his rawhide whip. From the centre 
of the throng an old man got up and made quite a 
long speech. When he had finished another did 
likewise. All was carried out with the greatest de- 
corum. After four or five had thus spoken, Home, 
without altering his lounging attitude, spoke twenty 
or thirty words, rapped again on the table with his 
rawhide whip, and immediately came over to us. 

"Now," said he cheerfully, "we'll have a game of 
golf." 

That was amusing, but not astonishing. Most 
of us have at one time or another laid out a scratch 
hole or so somewhere in the vacant lot. We re- 
turned to the house. Home produced a sufficiency of 
clubs, and we sallied forth. Then came the sur- 
prise of our life! We played eighteen holes — eigh- 
teen, mind you — over an excellently laid-out and 
kept-up course! The fair greens were cropped short 

236 



IN THE JUNGLE 

and smooth by a well-managed small herd of sheep; 
the putting greens were rolled, and In perfect order; 
bunkers had been located at the correct distances; 
there were water hazards in the proper spots. In 
short, it was a genuine, scientific, well-kept golf 
course. Over it played Home, solitary except on the 
rare occasions when he and his assistant happened to 
be at the post at the same time. The nearest white 
man was six days' journey; the nearest small civil- 
ization 196 miles.* The whole affair was most 
astounding. 

Our caddies were grinning youngsters a good deal 
like the Gold Dust Twins. They wore nothing but 
our golf bags. Afield were other supernumerary 
caddies: one in case we sliced, one in case we pulled, 
and one in case we drove straight ahead. Home 
explained that unlimited caddies were easier to get 
than unlimited golf balls. I can well believe It. 

F. joined forces with Home against B. and me for 
a grand international match. I regret to state that 
America was defeated by two holes. 

We returned to find our camp crowded with sav- 
ages. In a short time we had established trade re- 
lations and were doing a brisk business. Two years 
before we should have had to barter exclusively; but 
now, thanks to Home's attempt to collect an annual 

*Which was, in turn, over three hundred mile* from the next. 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

hut tax, money was some good. We had, however, 
very good luck with bright blankets and cotton 
cloth. Our beads did not happen here to be in 
fashion. Probably three months earlier or later we 
might have done better with them. The feminine 
mind here differs in no basic essential from that of 
civilization. Fashions change as rapidly, as often 
and as completely in the jungle as in Paris. The 
trader who brings blue beads when blue beads have 
"gone out" might just as well have stayed at home. 
We bought a number of the pretty "marquise" 
rings for four cents apiece (our money), some war 
clubs or rungas for the same, several spears, armlets, 
stools and the like. Billy thought one of the short, 
soft skin cloaks embroidered with steel beads might 
be nice to hang on the wall. We offered a youth two 
rupees for one. This must have been a high price, 
for every man in hearing of the words snatched off 
his cloak and rushed forward holding it out. As 
that reduced his costume to a few knick-knacks, Billy 
retired from the busy mart until we could arrange 
matters. 

We dined with Home. His official residence was 
most Interesting. The main room was very high 
to beams and a grass-thatched roof, with a well- 
brushed earth floor covered with mats. It contained 
comfortable furniture, a small library, a good phoao- 

238 



IN THE JUNGLE 

graph, tables, lamps and the like. When the moun- 
tain chill descended, Home lit a fire in a coal-oil 
can with a perforated bottom. What little smoke 
was produced by the clean burning wood lost itself 
far aloft. Leopard skins and other trophies hung 
on the wall. We dined in another room at a well- 
appointed table. After dinner we sat up until the 
unheard of hour of ten o'clock discussing at length 
many matters that interested us. Home told us of 
his personal bodyguard consisting of one son from 
each chief of his wide district. These youths were 
encouraged to make as good an appearance as pos- 
sible, and as a consequence turned out in the extreme 
of savage gorgeousness. Home spoke of them care- 
lessly as a "matter of policy in keeping the different 
tribes well disposed," but I thought he was at heart 
a little proud of them. Certainly, later and from 
other sources, we heard great tales of their endur- 
ance, devotion and efficiency. Also we heard that 
Home had cut in half his six months' leave (earned 
by three years' continuous service in the jungle) to 
hurry back from England because he could not bear 
the thought of being absent from the first collection 
of the hut tax! He Is a good man. 

We said good-night to him and stepped from the 
lighted house Into the vast tropical night. The little 
rays of our lantern showed us the inequalities of the 

239 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ground, and where to step across the bubbling, little 
irrigation streams. But thousands of stars insisted 
on a simplification. The broad, rolling meadows of 
the clearing lay half guessed in the dim light; and 
about its edge was the velvet band of the forest, 
dark and mysterious, stretching away for leagues 
into the jungle. From it near at hand, far away, 
came the rhythmic beating of solemn great drums, 
and the rising and falling chants of the savage 
peoples. 

(c) THE CHIEFS 

We left Meru well observed by a very large au- 
dience, much to the delight of our safari boys, who 
love to show off. We had acquired fourteen more 
small boys, or totos, ranging in age from eight to 
twelve years. These had been fitted out by their 
masters to alleviate their original shenzi appear- 
ance of savagery. Some had ragged blankets, 
which they had already learned to twist turban wise 
around their heads; others had ragged old jerseys 
reaching to their knees, or the wrecks of full-grown 
undershirts; one or two even sported baggy breeches 
a dozen sizes too large. Each carried his little load, 
proudly, atop his head like a real porter, sufurias 
or cooking pots, the small bags of potio, and the like. 
Inside a mile they had gravitated together and with 

240^ 



IN THE JUNGLE 

the small boy's relish for imitation and for playing 
a game, had completed a miniature safari organiza- 
tion of their own. Thenceforth they marched in a 
compact little company, under orders of their "head- 
man." They marched very well, too, straight and 
proud and tireless. Of course we inspected their 
loads to see that they were not required to carry too 
much for their strength; but, I am bound to say, we 
never discovered an attempt at overloading. In 
fact, the toto brigade was treated very well indeed. 
M'ganga especially took great interest in their educa- 
tion and welfare. One of my most vivid camp recol- 
lections is that of M'ganga, very benign and didactic, 
seated on a chop box and holding forth to a semi- 
circle of totos squatted on the ground before him. 
On reaching camp totos had several clearly defined 
duties: they must pick out good places for their 
masters' individual camps, they must procure cook- 
ing stones, they must collect kindling wood and start 
fires, they must fill the sufurias with water and 
set them over to boil. In the meantime, their mas- 
ters were attending to the pitching of the bwana's 
camp. The rest of the time the toto played about 
quite happily, and did light odd jobs, or watched 
most attentively while his master showed him 
small details of a safari-boy's duty, or taught him 
simple handicraft. Our boys seemed to take 

241 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

great pains with their totos and to try hard to teach 
them. 

Also at Meru we had acquired two cocks and four 
hens of the ridiculously small native breed. These 
rode atop the loads: their feet were tied to the cords 
and there they swayed and teetered and balanced 
all day long, apparently quite happy and interested. 
At each new camp site they were released and went 
scratching and clucking around among the tents. 
They lent our temporary quarters quite a settled 
air of domesticity. We named the cocks Gaston and 
Alphonse and somehow it was rather fine, in the 
blackness before dawn, to hear these little birds 
crowing stout-heartedly against the great African 
wilderness. Neither Gaston, Alphonse nor any of 
their harem were killed and eaten by their owners; 
but seemed rather to fulfil the function of household 
pets. 

Along the jungle track we met swarms of people 
coming in to the post. One large native safari com- 
posed exclusively of women were transporting loads 
of trade goods for the Indian trader. They carried 
their burdens on their backs by means of a strap 
passing over the top of the head; our own "tump 
line" method. The labour seemed in no way to 
have dashed their spirits, for they grinned at us, and 
joked merrily with our boys. Along the way, every 

242 



IN THE JUNGLE 

once in a while, we came upon people squatted down 
behind small stocks of sugarcane, yams, bananas, 
and the like. With these our boys did a brisk trade. 
Little paths led mysteriously into the jungle. Down 
them came more savages to greet us. Everybody 
was most friendly and cheerful, thanks to Home's 
personal influence. Two years before this same 
lot had been hostile. From every hidden village 
came the headmen or chiefs. They all wanted to 
shake hands — the ordinary citizen never dreamed 
of aspiring to that honour — • and they all spat care- 
fully into their palms before they did so. This all 
had to be done in passing: for ordinary village head- 
men it was beneath Our Dignity to draw rein. 
Once only we broke over this rule. That was In the 
case of an old fellow with white hair who managed 
to get so tangled up In the shrubbery that he could 
not get to us. He was so frantic with disappoint- 
ment that we made an exception and waited. 

About three miles out, we lost one of our newly 
acquired totos. Reason: an exasperated parent, 
who had followed from Meru for the purpose of re- 
claiming his runaway offspring. The latter was 
dragged off howling. Evidently he, like some of his 
civilized cousins, had " run away to join the circus." 
As nearly as we could get at It, the rest of the totos, 
as well as the nine additional we picked up before 

^43 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

we quitted the jungle, had all come with their par- 
ents' consent. In fact, we soon discovered that we 
could buy any amount of good sound totos, not house 
broke however, for an average of half a rupee (i6| 
cents) apiece. 

The road was very much up and down hill over 
the numerous ridges that star-fish out from Mt. 
Kenia. We would climb down steep trails from 200 
to 800 feet (measured by aneroid), cross an excellent 
mountain stream of crystalline dashing water, and 
climb out again. The trails of course had no notion 
of easy grades. It was very hard work, especially 
for men with loads; and it would have been impos- 
sible on account of the heat were it not for the nu- 
merous streams. On the slopes and in the bottoms 
were patches of magnificent forest; on the crests 
was the jungle, and occasionally an outlook over ex- 
tended views. The birds and the strange tropical 
big-leaved trees were a constant delight — exotic 
and strange. Billy was in a heaven of joy, for her 
specialty In Africa was plants, seeds and bulbs, for 
her California garden. She had syces, gunbearers 
and tent boys all climbing, shaking branches, and 
generally pawing about. 

This idlosyncracy of Billy's puzzled our boys 
hugely. At first they tried telling her that every- 
thing was poisonous; but when that did not work^ 

244 




Meru. In the native quarters. Women grinding corn. 




"It resembles the rolling beautiful downs of a first-class 
country club." 




Meru. 



IN THE JUNGLE 

they resigned themselves to their fate. In fact, 
some of the most enterprising like Memba Sasa, 
Kitaru, and, later, Kongoni used of their own ac- 
cord to hunt up and bring in seeds and blossoms. 
They did not in the least understand what it was for; 
and it used to puzzle them hugely until out of sheer 
pity for their uneasiness, I implied that the Mem- 
sahib collected "medicine." That was rational, so 
the wrinkled brow of care was smoothed. From 
this botanical trait, Billy got her native name of 
"Beebee Kooletta" — "The Lady Who Says: Go 
Get That." For in Africa every white man has a 
name by v/hich he is known among the native people. 
If you would get news of your friends, you must know 
their local cognomens — their own white man names 
will not do at all. For example, I was called either 
Bwana Machumwani or Bwana N'goma. The 
former means merely Master Four-eyes, referring to 
my glasses. The precise meaning of the latter is a 
matter much disputed between myself and Billy. 
An N'goma is a native dance, consisting of drum 
poundings, chantings, and hoppings around. There- 
fore I translate myself (most appropriately) as the 
Master who Makes Merry. On the other hand, 
Billy, with true feminine indirectness, insists that 
it means "The Master who Shouts and Howls." I 
leave it to any fairminded reader. 

245 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

About the middle of the morning we met a Govern- 
ment runner, a proud youth, young, lithe, with 
many ornaments and bangles; his red skin glisten- 
ing; the long blade of his spear, bound around with 
a red strip to signify his office, slanting across 
his shoulder; his buffalo hide shield slung from it 
over his back; the letter he was bearing stuck in a 
cleft stick and carried proudly before him as a 
priest carries a cross to the heathen — in the 
pictures. He was swinging along at a brisk pace, 
but on seeing us drew up and gave us a smart mili- 
tary salute! 

At one point where the path went level and 
straight for some distance, we were riding in an 
absolute solitude. Suddenly from the jungle on 
either side and about fifty yards ahead of us leaped a 
dozen women. They were dressed in grass skirts, 
and carried long narrow wooden shields painted 
white and brown. These they clashed together, 
shrieked shrilly, and charged down on us at full 
speed. When within a few yards of our horses' 
noses they came to a sudden halt, once more clashed 
their shields, shrieked, turned and scuttled away as 
fast as their legs could carry them. At a hundred 
yards they repeated the performance; and charged 
back at us again. Thus advancing and retreating, 
shrieking high, hitting the wooden shields with re- 

246 



IN THE JUNGLE 

sounding crash, they preceded our slow advance for 
a half mile or so. Then at some signal unperceived 
by us they vanished abruptly into the jungle. 
Once more we rode forward in silence and in soli- 
tude. Why they did it I could not say. 

Of this tissue were our days made. At noon our 
boys plucked us each two or three banana leaves 
which they spread down for us to lie on. Then we 
dozed through the hot hours in great comfort, oc- 
casionally waking to blue sky through green trees, 
or to peer idly into the tangled jungle. At two 
o'clock or a little later we would arouse ourselves 
reluctantly and move on. The safari we had dimly 
heard passing us an hour before. In this country of 
the direct track we did not attempt to accompany 
our men. 

The end of the day's march found us in a little 
clearing where we could pitch camp. Generally this 
was atop a ridge, so that the boys had some dis- 
tance to carry water; but that disadvantage was out- 
weighed by the cleared space. Sometimes we 
found ourselves hemmed in by a wall of jungle. 
Again we enjoyed a broad outlook. One such in 
especial took in the magnificent, splintered, snow- 
capped peak of Kenia on the right, a tremendous 
gorge and rolling forested mountains straight ahead, 
and a great drop to a plain with other and distant 

247 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

mountains to the left. It was as fine a panoramic 
view as one could imagine. 

Our tents pitched, and ourselves washed and re- 
freshed, we gave audience to the resident chief, who 
had probably been waiting. With this potentate 
we conversed affably, after the usual expectoratorlal 
ceremonies. Billy, being a mere woman, did not 
always come in for this; but nevertheless she main- 
tained what she called her "quarantine gloves," and 
kept them very handy. We had standing orders 
with our boys for basins of hot water to be waiting 
alv/ays behind our tents. After the usual polite 
exchanges we informed the chief of our needs — 
firewood, perhaps, milk, a sheep or the like. These 
he furnished. When we left we made him a present 
of a few beads, a knife, a blanket or such according 
to the value of his contribution. 

To me these encounters were some of the most in- 
teresting of our many experiences, for each man dif- 
fered radically from every other In his conceptions of 
ceremony, In his ideas, and in his methods. Our 
coming was a good deal of an event, always, and 
each chief, according to his temperament and train- 
ing, tried to do things up properly. And In that 
attempt certain basic traits of human nature showed 
In the very strongest relief. Thus there are three 
points of view to take In running any spectacle: 

248 



IN THE JUNGLE 

that of the star performer, the stage manager, or the 
truly artistic. We encountered well-marked speci- 
mens of each. I will tell you about them. 

The star performer knew his stagecraft thor- 
oughly; and in the exposition of his knowledge he 
showed incidentally how truly basic are the prin- 
ciples of stagecraft anywhere. 

We were seated under a tree near the banks of a 
stream eating our lunch. Before us appeared two 
tall and slender youths, wreathed in smiles, engaging, 
and most attentive to the small niceties of courtesy. 
We returned their greeting from our recumbent 
positions, whereupon they made preparation to 
squat down beside us. 

"Are you sultans.'"' we demanded sternly, "that 
you attempt to sit in Our Presence," and we lazil 
kicked the nearest. 

Not at all abashed, but favourably impressed with 
our transcendent importance — as we intended — 
they leaned gracefully on their spears and entered 
into conversation. After a few trifles of airy persi- 
flage they got down to business. 

"This," said they, indicating the tiny flat, "is the 
most beautiful place to camp in all the mountains." 

We doubted it. 

"Here is excellent water." 

We agreed to that. 

249 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

"And there is no more water for a long day's 
journey." 

"You are liars," we observed politely. 

"And near is the village of our chief, who is a 
great warrior, and will bring you many presents; the 
greatest man in these parts." 

"Now you're getting to it," we observed in Eng- 
lish; "you want trade." Then in Swahili, "We shall 
march two hours longer." 

After a few polite phrases they went away. We 
finished lunch, remounted, and rode up the trail. 
At the edge of the cailon we came to a wide clearing, 
at the farther side of which was evidently the village 
in question. But the merry villagers, down to the 
last toto, were drawn up at the edge of the track in a 
double line through which we rode. They were very 
wealthy savages, and wore it all. Bright neck, arm, 
and leg ornaments, yards and yards of cowry shells 
in strings, blue beads of all sizes (blue beads were 
evidently "in"), odd scraps and shapes of embroi- 
dered skins, clean shaves and a beautiful polish char- 
acterized this holiday gathering. We made our 
royal progress between the serried ranks. About 
eight or ten seconds after we had passed the last vil- 
lager — just the proper dramatic pause, you ob- 
serve — the bushes parted and a splendid straight 
springy young man came into view and stepped 

250 



IN THE JUNGLE 

smilingly across the space that separated us. And 
about eight or ten seconds after his emergence — 
again just the right dramatic pause — the bushes 
parted again to give entrance to four of the quaint- 
est little dolls of wives. These advanced all abreast, 
parted, and took up positions two either side the 
smiling chief. This youth was evidently in the 
height of fashion, his hair braided in a tight queue 
bound with skin, his ears dangling with ornaments, 
heavy necklaces around his neck, and armlets etc., 
ad lib. His robe was of fine monkey skin embroi- 
ered with rosettes of beads, and his spear was very 
long, bright and keen. He was tall and finely built, 
carried himself with a free, lithe swing. As the 
quintette came to halt, the villagers fell silent and our 
shauri began. 

We drew up and dismounted. We all expecto- 
rated as gentlemen. 

"These," said he proudly, "are my beebees." 

We replied that they seemed like excellent beebees, 
and politely Inquired the price of wives thereabout, 
and also the market for totos. He gave us to under- 
stand that such superior wives as these brought 
three cows and twenty sheep apiece, but that you 
could get a pretty good toto for half a rupee. 

"When we look upon our women," he concluded 
grandly, "we find them good; but when we look upon 

251 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the white women they are as nothing!" He com- 
pletely obliterated the poor little beebees with a 
magnificent gesture. They looked very humble and 
abashed. I was, however, a bit uncertain as to 
whether this was intended as a genuine tribute to 
Billy, or was meant to console us for having only 
one to his four. 

Now observe the stagecraft of all this: entrance of 
diplomats, preliminary conversation introducing the 
idea of the greatness of N'Zahgi (for that was his 
name), chorus of villagers, and, as climax, dramatic 
entrance of the hero and heroines. It was pretty 
well done. 

Again we stopped about the middle of the after- 
noon in an opening on the rounded top of a hill. 
While waiting for the safari to come up, Billy wan- 
dered away fifty or sixty yards to sit under a big tree. 
She did not stay long. Immediately she was settled, 
a dozen women and young girls surrounded her. 
They were almost uproariously good-natured, but 
Billy was probably the first white woman they had 
ever seen, and they intended to make the most of her. 
Every item of her clothes and equipment they ex- 
amined minutely, handled and discussed. When she 
told them with great dignity to go away, they laughed 
consumedly, fairly tumbling into each other's arms 
with excess of joy. Billy tried to gather her effects 

252 




'They were evil looking savages.' 




to, 




73 



o 



a, 



ex 
o 



IN THE JUNGLE 

for a masterly retreat, but found the press of num- 
bers too great. At last she had to signal for help. 
One of us wandered over with a kiboko with which 
lightly he flicked the legs of such damsels as he could 
reach. They scattered like quail, laughing hilari- 
ously. Billy was escorted back to safety. 

Shortly after the Chief and his Prime Minister 
came in. He was a little old gray-haired gentleman, 
as spry as a cricket, quite nervous, and very chatty. 
We Indicated our wants to him, and he retired after 
enunciating many words. The safari came in, m.ade 
camp. We had tea and a bath. The darkness fell; 
and still no Chief, no milk, no firewood, no promises 
fulfilled. There were plenty of natives around camp, 
but when we suggested that they get out and rustle 
on our behalf, they merely laughed good-naturedly. 
We seriously contemplated turning the whole lot 
out of camp. 

Finally we gave it up, and sat down to our dinner. 
It was now quite dark. The askarls had built a 
little campfire out in front. 

Then, far in the distance of the jungle's depths, 
v/e heard a faint measured chanting as of many 
people coming nearer. From another direction this 
was repeated. The two processions approached 
each other; their paths converged; the double chant- 
ing became a chorus that grew moment by monxent, 

253 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

We heard beneath the wild weird minors the light 
rhythmic stamping of feet, and the tapping of sticks. 
The procession debouched from the jungle's edge into 
the circle of the firelight. Our old chief led, accom- 
panied by a bodyguard in all the panoply of war: 
ostrich feather circlets enclosing the head and face, 
shields of bright heraldry, long glittering spears. 
These were followed by a dozen of the quaintest 
solemn dolls of beebees dressed in all the white 
cowry shells, beads and brass the royal treasury af- 
forded, very earnest, very much on inspection, every 
little head uplifted, singing away just as hard as 
ever they could. Each carried a gourd of milk, a 
bunch of bananas, some sugarcane, yams or the 
like. Straight to the fire marched the pageant. 
Then the warriors dividing right and left, drew up 
facing each other in two lines, struck their spears up- 
right in the ground, and stood at attention. The 
quaint brown little women lined up to close the end 
of this hollow square, of which our group was, 
roughly speaking, the fourth side. Then all came to 
attention. The song now rose to a wild and ecstat- 
tic minor chanting. The beebees, still singing, one 
by one cast their burdens between the files and at 
our feet in the middle of the hollow square. Then 
they continued their chant, singing away at the tops 
of their little lungs, their eyes and teeth showing, 

254 



IN THE JUNGLE 

their pretty bodies held rigidly upright. The war- 
riors, very erect and military, stared straight ahead. 

And the chief .^ Was he the centre of the show, the 
important leading man, to the contemplation of 
whom all these glories led.? Not at all! This par- 
ticular chief did not have the soul of a leading man, 
but rather the soul of a stage manager. Quite for- 
getful of himself and his part in the spectacle, his 
brow furrowed with anxiety, he was flittering from 
one to another of the performers. He listened care- 
fully to each singer in turn, holding his hand behind 
his ear to catch the individual note, striking one on 
the shoulder in admonition, nodding approval at 
another. He darted unexpectedly across to scru- 
tinize a warrior. In the chance of catching a flicker 
of the eyelid even. Nary a flicker! They did their 
stage manager credit, and stood like magnificent 
bronzes. He even ran across to peer into our own 
faces to see how we liked It. 

With a sudden crescendo the music stopped. 
Involuntarily we broke Into handclapplng. The 
old boy looked a bit startled at this, but we ex- 
plained to him, and he seemed very pleased. We 
then accepted formally the heap of presents, by 
touching them — and in turn passed over a blanket, 
a box of matches, and two needles, together with 
beads for the beebees. Then F., on an inspiration, 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

produced his flashlight. This made a tremendous 
sensation. The women tittered and giggled and 
blinked as its beams were thrown directly into their 
eyes; the chief's sons grinned and guffawed; the 
chief himself laughed like a pleased schoolboy, and 
seemed never to weary of the sudden shutting on and 
ofl^ of the switch. But the trusty Spartan warriors, 
standing still in their formation behind their planted 
spears, were not to be shaken. They glared straight 
in front of them, even when we held the light within 
a few inches of their eyes, and not a muscle quivered! 

"It is wonderful! wonderful!" the old man re- 
peated. "Many Government men have come here, 
but none have had anything like that! The bwanas 
must be very great sultans!" 

After the departure of our friends, we went rather 
grandly to bed. We always did after any one had 
called us sultans. 

But our prize chief was an Individual named 
M'booley.* Our camp here also was on a fine cleared 
hilltop between two streams. After we had traded 
for a while with very friendly and prosperous people 
M'booley came in. He was young, tall, straight, 
v/ith a beautiful smooth lithe form, and his face was 
hawklike and cleverly intelligent. He carried him- 
self with the greatest dignity and simplicity, meeting 

*Pronounce each o separately. 

256 




M'booley and two of his wives. 




"They were dressed in grass skirts and carried long shields.' 




'On the slopes and in the bottoms were patches of 
magnificent forest." 



IN THE JUNGLE 

us on an easy plane of familiarity. I do not know 
how I can better describe his manner toward us 
than to compare it to the manner the member of an 
exclusive golf club would use to one who is a stranger, 
but evidently a guest. He took our quality for 
granted; and supposed we must do the same by 
him, neither acting as though he considered us 
"great white men," nor yet standing aloof and too 
respectful. And as the distinguishing feature of all, 
he was absolutely without personal ornament. 

Pause for a moment to consider what a real ad- 
vance in aesthetic taste that one little fact stands 
for. All M'booley's attendants were the giddiest 
and gaudiest savages we had yet seen, with more col- 
obus fur, sleighbells, polished metal, ostrich plumes, 
and red paint than would have fitted out any 
two other royal courts of the jungle. The women 
too were wealthy and opulent without limit. It 
takes considerable perception among our civilized 
people to realize that severe simplicity amid ultra 
magnificence makes the most effective distinguishing 
of an individual. If you do not believe it, drop in 
at the next ball to which you are invited. M'booley 
had fathomed this: and what was more he had the 
strength of mind to act on it. Any savage loves 
finery for its own sake. His hair was cut short, and 
shaved away at the edges to leave what looked like 

257 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

an ordinary close-fitting skull cap. He wore one 
pair of plain armlets on his left upper arm and small 
simple ear-rings. His robe was black. He had no 
trace of either oil or paint, nor did he even carry a 
spear. 

He greeted us with good-humoured ease, and in- 
quired conversationally if we wanted anything. We 
suggested wood and milk, whereupon still smiling, 
he uttered a few casual words in his own language to 
no one in particular. There was no earthly doubt 
that he was chief. Three of the most gorgeous and 
haughty warriors ran out of camp. Shortly long 
files of women came in bringing loads of firewood; 
and others carrying bananas, yams, sugarcane and 
a sheep. Truly M'booley did things on a princely 
scale. We thanked him. He accepted the thanks 
with a casual smile, waved his hand and went on to 
talk of something else. In due order our M'ganga 
brought up one of our best trade blankets, to which 
we added a half dozen boxes of matches and a razor. 

Now into camp filed a small procession: four 
women, four children, and two young men. These 
advanced to where M'booley was standing smoking 
with great satisfaction one of B's tailor-made ciga- 
rettes. M'booley advanced ten feet to meet them, and 
brought them up to introduce them one by one in 
the most formal fashion. These were of course his 

258 



IN THE JUNGLE 

family, and we had to confess that they "saw" 
N'Zahgi's outfit of ornaments and "raised" him 
beyond the ceiling. We gave them each in turn the 
handshake of ceremony, first with the palms as we 
do it, and then each grasping the other's upright 
thumb. The "little chiefs" were proud, aristocratic 
little fellows, holding themselves very straight and 
solemn. I think one would have known them for 
royalty anywhere. 

It was quite a social occasion. None of our guests 
was in the least ill at ease; in fact, the young ladies 
were quite coy and flirtatious. We had a great 
many jokes. Each of the little ladies received a 
handful of prevailing beads. M'booley smiled 
benignly at these delightful femininities. After 
a time he led us to the edge of the hill and showed us 
his houses across the canon, perched on a flat about 
halfway up the wall. They were of the usual grass- 
thatched construction, but rather larger and neater 
than most. Examining them through the glasses 
we saw that a little stream had been diverted to flow 
through the front yard. M'booley waved his hand 
abroad and gave us to understand that he considered 
the outlook worth looking at. It was; but an appre- 
ciation of that fact is foreign to the average native. 
Next morning, when we rode by very early, we found 
the little flat most attractively cleared and arranged, 

259 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

M'booley was out to shake us by the hand in fare- 
well, shivering in the cold of dawn. The flirtatious 
and spoiled little beauties were not in evidence. 

One day after two very deep carions we emerged 
from the forest jungle into an up and down country 
of high jungle bush-brush. From the top of a ridge 
it looked a good deal like a northern cut-over pine 
country grown up very heavily to blackberry vines; 
although, of course, when we came nearer, the "black- 
berry vines" proved to be ten or twenty feet high. 
This was a district of which Home had warned us. 
The natives herein were reported restless and semi- 
hostile; and in fact had never been friendly. They 
probably needed the demonstration most native 
tribes seem to require before they are content to 
settle down and be happy. At any rate safaris were 
not permitted in their district; and we ourselves were 
allowed to go through merely because we were a 
large party, did not intend to linger, and had a good 

; reputation with natives. 

l^ It is very curious how abruptly, in Central 
Africa, one passes from one condition to an- 
other, from one tribe or race to the next. Some- 
times, as in the present case, it is the traver- 
sing of a deep cafion; at others the simple cross- 
ing of a tiny brook is enough. Moreover the 
line of demarcation is clearly defined, as boun- 

z6o 




In fact, the young ladies were quite coy and flirtatious." 




•v-.-r r"i*fcrtMp ijiiiiimtiMiiiiMiiiii iitirna 



Totos 




" The savages commenced to drift in, very haughty and 
arrogant. They were fully armed." 



IN THE JUNGLE 

darles elsewhere are never defined save In war- 
time. 

Thus we smiled our good-bye to a friendly numer- 
ous people, descended a hill, and ascended another 
into a deserted track. After a half mile we came 
unexpectedly on to two men carrying each a load of 
reeds. These they abandoned and fled up the hill- 
side through the jungle, in spite of our shouted as- 
surances. A moment later they reappeared at some 
distance above us, each with a spear he had snatched 
from somewhere; they were unarmed when we first 
caught sight of them. Examined through the 
glasses they proved to be sullen looking men, copper 
coloured, but broad across the cheekbones, broad in 
the forehead, more decidedly of the negro type than 
our late hosts. 

Aside from these two men we travelled through 
an apparently deserted jungle. I suspect, however, 
that we were probably well watched; for when we 
stopped for noon we heard the gunbearers beyond 
the screen of leaves talking to some one. On 
learning from our boys that these were some of 
the shenzis, we told them to bring the savages 
ir for a shauri; but in this our men failed, 
nor could they themselves get nearer than fifty 
yards or so to the wild people. So until even- 
ing our impression remained that of two distant 

261 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

men, and the indistinct sound of voices behind a 
leafy screen. 

We made camp comparatively early in a wide 
open space surrounded by low forest. Almost im- 
mediately then the savages commenced to drift 
in, very haughty and arrogant. They were fully 
armed. Besides the spear and decorated shield, some 
of- them carried the curious small grass spears. 
These are used to stab upward from below, the 
wielder lying flat in the grass. Some of these men 
were fantastically painted with a groundwork of 
ochre, on which had been drawn intricate wavy de- 
signs on the legs, like stockings, and varied stripes 
across the face. One particularly ingenious in- 
dividual, stark naked, had outlined roughly his 
entire skeleton! He was a gruesome object! They 
stalked here and there through the camp, looking on 
our men and their activities with a lofty and silent 
contempt. 

You may be sure we had our arrangements, 
though they did not appear on the surface. The 
askaris, or native soldiers, were posted here and there 
with their muskets; the gunbearers also kept our 
spare weapons by them. The askaris could not hit 
a barn, but they could make a noise. The gun- 
bearers were fair shots. 

Of course the chief and his prime minister came 
262 



IN THE JUNGLE 

in. They were evil-looking savages. To them we 
paid not the slightest attention, but went about our 
usual business as though they did not exist. At the 
end of an hour they of their own initiative greeted 
us. We did not hear them. Half an hour later they 
disappeared, to return after an interval, followed by 
a string of young men bearing firewood. Evidently 
our bearing had impressed them, as we had intended. 
We then unbent far enough to recognize them, car- 
ried on a formal conversation for a few moments, 
gave them adequate presents and dismissed them. 
Then we ordered the askaris to clear camp and to 
keep it clear. No women had appeared. Even 
the gifts of firewood had been carried by men, a 
most unusual proceeding. 

As soon as dark fell the drums began roaring in 
the forest all about our clearing, and the chanting to 
rise. We instructed our men to shoot first and in- 
quire afterward, if a shenzi so much as showed him- 
self in the clearing. This was not as bad as it 
sounded; the shenzi stood in no immediate danger. 
Then we turned in to a sleep rather light and broken 
by uncertainty. I do not think we were in any im- 
mediate danger of a considered attack, for these 
people were not openly hostile; but there was al- 
ways a chance that the savages might by their drum 
pounding and dancing work themselves into a 

263 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

frenzy. Then we might have to do a little rapid 
shooting. Not for one instant the whole night long 
did those misguided savages cease their howling 
and dancing. At any rate we cost them a night's 
sleep. 

Next morning we took up our march through the 
deserted tracks once more. Not a sign of human 
life did we encounter. About ten o'clock we climbed 
down a tremendous gash of a box caiion with pre- 
cipitous cliffs. From below we looked back to see, 
perched high against the skyline, the motionless 
figures of many savages watching us from the crags. 
So we had had company after all, and we had not 
known it. This caiion proved to be the boundary 
line. With the same abruptness we passed again 
into friendly country. 

(d) OUT THE OTHER SIDE 

We left the jungle finally when we turned on a long 
angle away from Kenia. At first the open country 
of the foothills was closely cultivated with fields of 
rape and maize. We saw some of the people break- 
ing new soil by means of long pointed sticks. The 
plowmen quite simply inserted the pointed end in 
the ground and pried. It was very slow hard work. 
In other fields the grain stood high and good. From 
among the stalks, as from a miniature jungle, the 

264 



IN THE JUNGLE 

little naked totos stared out, and the good-natured 
women smiled at us. The magnificent peak of 
Kenla had now shaken itself free of the forests. On 
Its snow the sunrises and sunsets kindled their 
fires. The flames of grass fires, too, could plainly 
be made out, incredible distances away, and at 
daytime, through the reek, were fascinating sug- 
gestions of distant rivers, plains, jungles, and 
hills. You see, we were still practically on the 
wide slope of Kenia's base, though the peak was 
many days away, and so could look out over wide 
country. 

The last half day of this we wandered literally in 
a rape field. The stalks were quite above our heads, 
and we could see but a few yards In any direction. 
In addition the track had become a footpath not 
over two feet wide. We could occasionally look 
back to catch glimpses of a pack or so bobbing along 
on a porter's head. From our own path hundreds 
of other paths branched; we were continually taking 
the wrong fork and moving back to set the safari 
right before it could do likewise. This we did by 
drawing a deep double line in the earth across the 
wrong trail. Then we hustled on ahead to pioneer 
the way a little farther; our difficulties were further 
complicated by the fact that we had sent our horses 
back to Nairobi for fear of the tsetse fly, so we could 

265 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

not see out above the corn. All we knew was that 
we ought to go down hill. 

At the ends of some of our false trails we came 
upon fascinating little settlements: groups of houses 
inside brush enclosures, with low wooden gateways 
beneath which we had to stoop to enter. Within 
were groups of beehive houses with small naked 
children and perhaps an old woman or old man 
seated cross-legged under a sort of veranda. From 
them we obtained new — and confusing directions. 

After three o'clock we came finally out on the edge 
of a cliff fifty or sixty feet high, below which lay 
uncultivated bottom lands like a great meadow and 
a little meandering stream. We descended the cliff, 
and camped by the meandering stream. 

By this time we were fairly tired from long walk- 
ing in the heat, and so were content to sit down 
under our tent-fly before our little table, and let 
Mahomet bring us sparklets and lime juice. Be- 
fore us was the flat of a meadow below the cliffs, 
and the cliffs themselves. Just below the rise lay a 
single patch of standing rape not over two acres in 
extent, the only sign of human life. It was as 
though this little bit had overflowed from the count- 
less millions on the plateau above. Beyond it arose 
a thin signal of smoke. 

We sipped our lime juice and rested. Soon our 
266 



IN THE JUNGLE 

attention was attracted by the peculiar actions of a 
big flock of very white birds. They rose suddenly 
from one side of the tiny rape field, wheeled and 
swirled like leaves in the wind, and dropped down 
suddenly on the other side the patch. After a few 
moments they repeated the performance. The sun 
caught the dazzling white of their plumage. At first 
we speculated on what they might be, then on what 
they were doing, to behave in so peculiar a manner. 
The lime juice and the armchair began to get in their 
recuperative work. Somehow the distance across 
that flat did not seem quite as tremendous as at 
first. Finally I picked up the shotgun and saun- 
tered across to investigate. The cause of action I 
soon determined. The owner of that rape field 
turned out to be an emaciated, gray-haired but spry 
old savage. He was armed with a spear; and at the 
moment his chief business in life seemed to be chasing 
a large flock of white birds off his grain. Since he 
had no assistance, and since the birds held his spear 
in justifiable contempt as a fowling piece, he was 
getting much exercise and few results. The birds 
gave way before his direct charge, flopped over to 
the other side, and continued their meal. They had 
already occasioned considerable damage; the rape 
heads were bent and destroyed for a space of perhaps 
ten feet from the outer edge of the field. As this 

267 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

grain probably constituted the old man's food supply 
for a season, I did not wonder at the vehemence with 
which he shook his spear at his enemies, nor the ap- 
parent flavour of his language, though I did marvel 
at his physical endurance. As for the birds, they 
had become cynical and impudent; they barely flut- 
tered out of the way. 

I halted the old gentleman and hastened to ex- 
plain that I was neither a pirate, a robber, nor an 
oppressor of the poor. This as counter-check to his 
tendency to flee, leaving me in sole charge. He un- 
derstood a little Swahili, and talked a few words of 
something he intended for that language. By means 
of our mutual accomplishment in that tongue, and 
through a more efficient sign language, I got him 
to understand the plan of campaign. It was very 
simple. I squatted down inside the rape, while he 
went around the other side to scare them up. 

The white birds uttered their peculiarly derisive 
cackle at the old man and flapped over to my side. 
Then they were certainly an astonished lot of birds. 
I gave them both barrels and dropped a pair; got 
two more shots as they swung over me and dropped 
another pair, and brought down a straggling single as 
a grand finale. The flock, with shrill, derogatory 
remarks, flew in an airline straight away. They 
never deviated, as far as I could follow them with 

268 




'These chickens rode atop the loads." 




The Tana River. 



IN THE JUNGLE 

the eye. Even after they had apparently disap- 
peared, I could catch an occasional flash of white in 
the sun. 

Now the old gentleman came whooping around 
with long, undignified bounds to fall on his face and 
seize my foot in an excess of gratitude. He rose and 
capered about, he rushed out and gathered in the 
slain one by one and laid them in a pile at my feet. 
Then he danced a jig-step around them and reviled 
them, and fell on his face once more, repeating the 
word "Bwanal bwana! bwana!" over and over — 
"Master! master! master!" We returned to camp 
together, the old gentleman carrying the birds, and 
capering about like a small boy, pouring forth a flood 
of his sort of Swahili, of which I could understand 
only a word here and there. Memba Sasa, very 
dignified and scornful of such performances, met us 
halfway and took my gun. He seemed to be able 
to understand the old fellow's brand of Swahili, and 
said it over again in a brand I could understand. 
From it I gathered that I was called a marvellously 
great sultan, a protector of the poor, and other 
Arabian Nights titles. 

The birds proved to be white egrets. Now at 
home I am strongly against the killing of these 
creatures, and have so expressed myself on many oc- 
casions. But, looking from the beautiful white plu- 

269 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

mage of these villanous mauraders, to the wrinkled 
countenance of the grateful weary old savage, I could 
not fan a spark of regret. And from the straight line 
of their retreating flight I like to think that the rest 
of the flock never came back, but took their toll 
from the wider fields of the plateau above. 

Next day we reentered the game-haunted wilder- 
ness, nor did we see any more native villages until 
many weeks later we came into the country of the 
Wakamba. 



270 



XIX 

THE TANA RIVER 

OUR first sight of the Tana River was from the 
top of a bluff. It flowed below us a hundred 
feet, bending at a sharp elbow against the cliff on 
which we stood. Out of the jungle it crept sluggishly 
and into the jungle It crept again, brown, slow, viscid, 
suggestive of the fevers and the lurking beasts by 
which, indeed, it was haunted. From our elevation 
we could follow Its course by the jungle that grew 
along Its banks. At first this was Intermittent, leav- 
ing thin or even open spaces at Intervals, but lower 
down It extended away unbroken and very tall. The 
trees were many of them beginning to come into 
flower. 

Either side the jungle were rolling hills. Those 
to the left made up to the tremendous slopes of 
Kenla. Those to the right ended finally in a low 
broken range many miles away called the Ithanga 
Hills. The country gave one the Impression of being 
clothed with small trees; although here and there this 
growth gave space to wide grassy plains. Later we 

271 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

discovered that the forest was more apparent than 
real. The small trees, even where continuous, were 
sparse enough to permit free walking in all directions, 
and open enough to allow clear sight for a hundred 
yards or so. Furthermore, the shallow wide valleys 
between the hills were almost invariably treeless and 
grown to very high thick grass. 

Thus the course of the Tana possessed advan- 
tages to such as we. By following in general the 
course of the stream we were always certain of wood 
and water. The river itself was full of fish — not to 
speak of hundreds of crocodiles and hippopotamuses. 
The thick river jungle gave cover to such animals as 
the bushbuck, leopard, the beautiful colobus, some 
of the tiny antelope, waterbuck, buffalo and rhinoc- 
eros. Among the thorn and acacia trees of the 
hillsides one was certain of impalla, eland, diks-diks, 
and giraffes. In the grass bottoms were lions, rhinoc- 
eroses, a half dozen varieties of buck, and thousands 
and thousands of game birds such as guinea fowl 
and grouse. On the plains fed zebra, hartebeeste, 
wart-hog, ostriches, and several species of the smaller 
antelope. As a sportsman's paradise this region 
would be hard to beat. 

We were now afoot. The dreaded tsetse fly 
abounded here, and we had sent our horses in via 
Fort Hall. F. had accompanied them, and hoped to 

272 













pq 



THE TANA RIVER 

lejoin us in a few days or weeks with tougher and 
less valuable mules. Pending his return we moved 
on leisurely, camping long at one spot, marching 
short days, searching the country far and near for 
the special trophies of which we stood in need. 

It was great fun. Generally we hunted each in his 
own direction and according to his own ideas. The 
jungle along the river, while not the most prolific 
in trophies, was by all odds the most interesting. It 
was very dense, very hot, and very shady. Often a 
thorn thicket would fling itself from the hills right 
across to the water's edge, absolutely and hopelessly 
impenetrable save by way of the rhinoceros tracks. 
Along these then we would slip, bent double, very 
quietly and gingerly, keeping a sharp lookout for 
the rightful owners of the trail. Again we would 
wander among lofty trees through the tops of which 
the sun flickered on festooned serpentlike vines. 
Every once in a while we managed a glimpse of the 
sullen oily river through the dense leaf screen on Its 
banks. The water looked thick as syrup, of a deadly 
menacing green. Sometimes we saw a loathsome croc- 
odile lying with his nose just out of water, or heard 
the snorting blow of a hippopotamus coming up 
for air. Then the thicket forced us Inland again. 
We stepped very slowly, very alertly, our ears 
cocked for the faintest sound, our eyes roving. 

273 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Generally, of course, the creatures of the jungle saw 
us first. We became aware of them by a crash or a 
rustling or a scamper. Then we stood stock still, 
listening with all our ears for some sound distin- 
guishing to the species. Thus I came to recognize 
the queer barking note of the bushbuck, for example; 
and to realize how profane and vulgar that graceful 
and beautiful creature, the impalla, can be when he 
forgets himself. As for the rhinoceros, he does not 
care how much noise he makes, nor how badly he 
scares you. 

Personally, I liked very well to circle out in the 
more open country until about three o'clock, then to 
enter the river jungle and work my way slowly back 
toward camp. At that time of day the shadows were 
lengthening, the birds and animals were beginning 
to stir about. In the cooling nether world of shadow 
we slipped silently from thicket to thicket, from tree 
to tree; and the jungle people fled from us, or with- 
drew, or gazed curiously, or cursed us as their dis- 
positions varied. 

While thus returning one evening I saw my first 
colobus. He was swinging rapidly from one tree 
to another, his long black and white fur shining 
against the sun. I wanted him very much, and 
promptly let drive at him with the 405 Winchester. 
I always carried this heavier weapon in the dense jun- 

274 



THE TANA RIVER 

gle. Of course I missed him, but the roar of the shot 
so surprised him that he came to a stand. Memba 
Sasa passed me the Springfield, and I managed to get 
him in the head. At the shot another flashed into 
view, high up in the top of a tree. Again I aimed 
and fired. The beast let go and fell like a plummet. 
"Good shot," said I to myself. Fifty feet down 
the colobus seized a limb and went skipping away 
through the branches as lively as ever. In a moment 
he stopped to look back, and by good luck I landed 
him through the body. When we retrieved him 
we found that the first shot had not hit him at all ! 

At the time I thought he must have been fright- 
ened into falling; but many subsequent experiences 
showed me that this sheer let-go-all-holds drop is 
characteristic of the colobus and his mode of pro- 
gression. He rarely, as far as my observation goes, 
leaps out and across as do the ordinary monkeys, but 
prefers to progress by a series of slanting ascents 
followed by breath-taking straight drops to lower 
levels. When closely pressed from beneath, he will 
go as high as he can, and will then conceal himself 
in the thick leaves. 

B. and I procured our desired number of colobus 
by taking advantage of this habit — as soon as we 
had learned it. Shooting the beasts with our rifles 
we soon found to be not only very difficult, but also 

275 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

destructive of the skins. On the other hand, a man 
could not, save by sheer good fortune, rely on stalk- 
ing near enough to use a shotgun. Therefore we 
evolved a method productive of the maximum noise, 
row, barked shins, thorn wounds, tumbles, bruises 
— and colobus! It was very simple. We took 
about twenty boys into the jungle with us, and as 
soon as we caught sight of a colobus we chased him 
madly. That was all there was to it. 

And yet this method, simple apparently to the 
point of imbecility, had considerable logic back of it 
after all; for after a time somebody managed to get 
underneath that colobus when he was at the top of a 
tree. Then the beast would hide. 

Consider then a tumbling riotous mob careering 
through the jungle as fast as the jungle would let it, 
slipping, stumbling, falling flat, getting tangled 
hopelessly, disentangling with profane remarks, 
falling behind and catching up again, everybody 
yelling and shrieking. Ahead of us we caught 
glimpses of the sleek bounding black and white 
creature, running up the long slanting limbs, and 
dropping like a plummet into the lower branches of 
the next tree. We white men never could keep up 
with the best of our men at this sort of work, although 
in the open country I could hold them well enough. 
We could see them dashing through the thick cover 

276 



THE TANA RIVER 

at a great rate of speed far ahead of us. After an 
interval came a great shout in chorus. By this we 
knew that the quarry had been definitely brought 
to a stand. Arriving at the spot we craned our heads 
backward, and proceeded to get a crick in the neck 
trying to make out invisible colobus in the very tops 
of the trees above us. For gaudily marked beasts 
the colobus were extraordinarily difficult to see. 
This was in no sense owing to any far-fetched appli- 
cation of protective colouration; but to the remark- 
able skill the animals possessed in concealing them- 
selves behind apparently the scantiest and most 
inadequate cover. Fortunately for us our boys' 
ability to see them was equally remarkable. Indeed, 
the most difficult part of their task was to point the 
game out to us. We squinted, and changed posi- 
tion, and tried hard to follow directions eagerly 
proffered by a dozen of the men. Finally one of us 
would, by the aid of six power-glasses, make out, or 
guess at a small tuft of white or black hair showing 
beyond the concealment of a bunch of leaves. We 
would unlimber the shotgun and send a charge of 
BB into that bunch. Then down would plump 
the game, to the huge and vociferous delight of 
all the boys. Or, as occasionally happened, 
the shot was followed merely by a shower of 
leaves and a chorus of expostulations indicating 

277 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

that we had mistaken the place, and had fired into 
empty air. 

In this manner we gathered the twelve we required 
between us. At noon we sat under the bank, with 
the tangled roots of trees above us, and the smooth 
oily river slipping by. You may be sure we always 
selected a spot protected by very shoal water, for 
the crocodiles were numerous. I always shot these 
loathsome creatures whenever I got a chance, and 
whenever the sound of a shot would not alarm more 
valuable game. Generally they were to be seen in 
midstream, just the tip of their snouts above water, 
and extraordinarily like anything but crocodiles. 
Often it took several close scrutinies through the 
glass to determine the brutes. This required rather 
nice shooting. More rarely we managed to see them 
on the banks, or only half submerged. In this posi- 
tion, too, they were all but undistinguishable as 
living creatures. I think this is perhaps because of 
their complete immobility. The creatures of the 
woods, standing quite still, are difficult enough to 
see; but I have a notion that the eye, unknown to 
itself, catches the sum total of little flexings of the 
muscles, movements of the skin, winkings, even the 
play of wind and light in the hair of the coat, all of 
which, while impossible of analysis, together relieve 
the appearance of dead inertia. The vitality of a 

278 



THE TANA RIVER 

creature like the crocodile, however, seems to have 
withdrawn into the inner recesses of its being. It 
lies like a log of wood, and for a log of wood it is 
mistaken. 

Nevertheless the crocodile has stored in it some- 
where a fearful vitality. The swiftness of its move- 
ments when seizing prey is most astonishing; a swirl 
of water, the sweep of a powerful tail, and the unfor- 
tunate victim has disappeared. For this reason it is 
especially dangerous to approach the actual edge of 
any of the great rivers, unless the water is so shallow 
that the crocodile could not possibly approach under 
cover; as is its cheerful habit. We had considerable 
difficulty in impressing this elementary truth on our 
hill-bred totos until one day, hearing wild shrieks 
from the direction of the river, I rushed down to 
find the lot huddled together in the very middle of a 
sand spit that reached well out into the stream. 
Inquiry developed that while paddling in the shal- 
lows they had been surprised by the sudden appear- 
ance of an ugly snout and well drenched by the sweep 
of an eager tail. The stroke fortunately missed. 
We stilled the tumult, sat down quietly to wait, and 
at the end of ten minutes had the satisfaction of 
abating that croc. 

Generally we killed the brutes where we found 
them and allowed them to drift away with the cur- 

27Q 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

rent. Occasionally howeVer we wanted a piece of 
hide, and then tried to retrieve them. One such 
occasion showed very vividly the tenacity of life 
and the primitive nervous systems of these great 
saurians. 

I discovered the beast, head out of water, in a 
reasonable sized pool below which were shallow 
rapids. My Springfield bullet hit him fair, where- 
upon he stood square on his head and waved his tail 
in the air, rolled over three or four times, thrashed 
the water, and disappeared. After waiting a while 
we moved on downstream. Returning four hours 
later I sneaked up quietly. There the crocodile lay, 
sunning himself on the sand bank. I supposed he 
must be dead; but when I accidentally broke a twig, 
he immediately commenced to slide off into the water. 
Thereupon I stopped him with a bullet in the spine. 
The first shot had smashed a hole in his head, just 
behind the eye, about the size of an ordinary coffee 
cup. In spite of this wound, which would have been 
instantly fatal to any warm-blooded animal, the 
creature was so little affected that it actually re- 
acted to a slight noise made at some distance from 
where it lay. Of course the wound would probably 
have been fatal in the long run. 

The best spot to shoot at, indeed, is not the head, 
but the spine immediately back of the head. 

280 



THE TANA RIVER 

These brutes are exceedingly powerful. They 
are capable of taking down horses and cattle, with 
no particular effort. This I know from my own 
observation. Mr. Fleischman, however, was privi- 
leged to see the wonderful sight of the capture and 
destruction of a full-grown rhinoceros by a crocodile. 
The photographs he took of this most extraordinary 
affair leave no room for doubt. Crossing a stream 
was always a matter of concern to us. The boys 
beat the surface of the water vigorously with their 
safari sticks. On occasion we have even let loose a 
few heavy bullets to stir up the pool before ventur- 
ing in. 

A steep climb through thorn and brush would 
always extricate us from the river jungle when we 
became tired of it. Then we found ourselves in a 
continuous but scattered growth of small trees. 
Between the trunks of these we could see for a 
hundred yards or so before their numbers closed in 
the view. Here was the favourite haunt of numerous 
beautiful impalla. We caught glimpses of them, 
flashing through the trees; or occasionally standing 
gazing in our direction, their slender necks stretched 
high, their ears pointed for us. These curious ones 
were generally the does. The bucks were either 
more cautious or less inquisitive. A herd or so of 
eland also liked this covered country; and there 

281 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

were always a few waterbuck and rhinoceroses 
about. Often too we here encountered stragglers from 
the open plains — zebra or hartebeeste, very alert 
and suspicious in unaccustomed surroundings. 

A great deal of the plains country had been burned 
over; and a considerable area was still afire. The low 
bright flames licked their way slowly through the grass 
in a narrow irregular band extending sometimes for 
miles. Behind it was blackened soil, and above it 
rolled dense clouds of smoke. Always accompanied 
it thousands of birds wheeling and dashing frantically 
in and out of the murk, often fairly at the flames 
themselves. The published writings of a certain 
worthy and sentimental person waste much sym- 
pathy over these poor birds dashing frenziedly about 
above their destroyed nests. As a matter of fact 
they are taking greedy advantage of a most excellent 
opportunity to get insects cheap. Thousands of 
the common red-billed European storks patrolled 
the grass just in front of the advancing flames, or 
wheeled barely above the fire. Grasshoppers were 
their main object, although apparently they never 
objected to any small mammals or reptiles that came 
their way. Far overhead wheeled a few thousand 
more assorted soarers who either had no appetite or 
had satisfied it. 

The utter indiff'erence of the animals to the ad- 
282 



THE TANA RIVER 

vance of a big conflagration always impressed me. 
One naturally pictures the beasts as fleeing wildly, 
nostrils distended, before the devouring element. 
On the contrary I have seen kongoni grazing quite 
peacefully with flames on three sides of them. The 
fire seems to travel rather slowly in the tough grass; 
although at times and for a short distance it will 
leap to a wild and roaring life. Beasts will then lope 
rapidly away to right or left, but without excitement. 

On these open plains we were more or less pestered 
with ticks of various sizes. These clung to the grass 
blades; but with no invincible preference for that 
habitat: trousers did them just as well. Then they 
ascended looking for openings. They ranged in 
size from little red ones as small as the period of 
a printed page to big patterned fellows the size of a 
pea. The little ones were much the most abundant. 
At times I have had the front of my breeches so 
covered with them that their numbers actually 
imparted a reddish tinge to the surface of the cloth. 
This sounds like exaggeration; but it is a measured 
statement. The process of de-ticking (new and 
valuable word) can then be done only by scraping 
with the back of a hunting knife. 

Some people, of tender skin, are driven nearly 
frantic by these pests. Others, of whom I am thank- 
ful to say I am one, get off comparatively easy. In 

283 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

a particularly bad tick country, one generally ap- 
points one of the youngsters as "tick toto." It is 
then his job in life to de-tick any person or domestic 
animal requiring his services. His is a busy existence. 
But though at first the nuisance is excessive, one 
becomes accustomed to it in a remarkably short space 
of time. The adaptability of the human being is 
nowhere better exemplified. After a time one gets 
so that at night he can remove a marauding tick and 
cast it forth into the darkness without even waking 
up. Fortunately ticks are local in distribution. 
Often one may travel weeks or months without this 
infliction. 

I was always interested and impressed to observe 
how indifferent the wild animals seem to be to these 
insects. Zebra, rhinoceros and giraffe seem to be 
especially good hosts. The loathsome creatures 
fasten themselves in clusters wherever they can grip 
their fangs. Thus in a tick country a zebra's ears, 
the lids and corners of his eyes, his nostrils and lips, 
the soft skin between his legs and body, and between 
his hind legs, and under his tail are always crusted 
with ticks as thick as they can cling. One would 
think the drain on vitality would be enormous, but 
the animals are always plump and in condition. 
The same state of affairs obtains with the other two 
beasts named. The hartebeeste also carries ticks, 

284 



THE TANA RIVER 

but not nearly In the same abundance; while such 
creatures as the waterbuck, impalla, gazelles and 
the smaller bucks seem either to be absolutely free 
from the pests, or to have a very few. Whether this 
is because such animals take the trouble to rid them- 
selves, or because they are more immune from attack 
it would be difficult to say. I have found ticks cling- 
ing to the hair of lions, but never fastened to the 
flesh. It is probable that they had been brushed off 
from the grass in passing. Perhaps ticks do not like 
lions, waterbuck, Tommies, et al., or perhaps only 
big coarse-grained common brutes like zebra and 
rhinos will stand them at all. 



285 



XX 

DIVERS ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA 

LATE one afternoon I shot a wart-hog in the tall 
J grass. The beast was an unusually fine speci- 
men, so I instructed Fundi and the porters to take 
the head, and myself started for camp with Memba 
Sasa. I had gone not over a hundred yards when I 
was recalled by wild and agonized appeals of: 
"Bwana! bwana!" The long-legged Fundi was 
repeatedly leaping straight up in the air to an 
astonishing height above the long grass, curling his 
legs up under him at each jump, and yelling like a 
steam-engine. Returning promptly, I found that 
the wart-hog had come to life at the first prick of the 
knife. He was engaged in charging back and forth 
in an earnest effort to tusk Fundi, and the latter was 
jumping high in an equally earnest effort to keep out 
of the way. Fortunately he proved agile enough to 
do so until I planted another bullet in the aggressor. 
These wart-hogs are most comical brutes from 
whatever angle one views them. They have a 
patriarchal, self-satisfied, suburban manner of com- 

286 



ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA 

plete importance. The old gentleman bosses his 
harem outrageously, and each and every member of 
the tribe walks about with short steps and a stuffy 
parvenu small-town self-sufficiency. One is quite 
certain that it is only by accident that they have 
long tusks and live in Africa, instead of rubber-plants 
and self-made business and a pug-dog within com- 
muters' distance of New York. But at the slightest 
alarm this swollen and puffy importance breaks 
down completely. Away they scurry, their tails 
held stiffly and straightly perpendicular, their short 
legs scrabbling the small stones in a frantic effort 
to go faster than nature had intended them to go. 
Nor do they cease their flight at a reasonable distance, 
but keep on going over hill and dale, until they fairly 
vanish in the blue. I used to like starting them 
off this way, just for the sake of contrast, and also 
for the sake of the delicious but impossible vision 
of seeing their human prototypes do likewise. 

When a wart-hog is at home, he lives down a hole. 
Of course it has to be a particularly large hole. He 
turns around and backs down it. No more peculiar 
sight can be imagined than the sardonically tooth- 
some countenance of a wart-hog fading slowly in the 
dimness of a deep burrow, a good deal like Alice's 
Cheshire Cat. Firing a revolver, preferably with 
smoky black powder, just in front of the hole annoys 

287 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the wart-hog exceedingly. Out he comes full tilt, 
bent on damaging some one, and it takes quick 
shooting to prevent his doing so. 

Once, many hundreds of miles south of the Tana, 
and many months later, we were riding quite peace- 
ably through the country, when we were startled 
by the sound of a deep and continuous roaring in a 
small brush patch to our left. We advanced cau- 
tiously to a prospective lion, only to discover that 
the roaring proceeded from the depths of a wart-hog 
burrow. The reverberation of our footsteps on the 
hollow ground had alarmed him. He was a very 
nervous wart-hog. 

On another occasion, when returning to camp from 
a solitary walk, I saw two wart-hogs before they saw 
me. I made no attempt to conceal myself, but stood 
absolutely motionless. They fed slowly nearer and 
nearer until at last they were not over twenty yards 
away. When finally they made me out, their in- 
dignation and amazement and utter incredulity were 
very funny. In fact, they did not believe in me at 
all for some few snorty moments. Finally they 
departed, their absurd tails stiff upright. 

One afternoon F. and I, hunting along one of the 
wide grass bottom lands, caught sight of a herd of 
an especially fine impalla. The animals were feed- 

288 



ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA 

ing about fifty yards the other side of a small solit- 
ary bush, and the bush grew on the sloping 
bank of the slight depression that represented 
the dry stream bottom. We could duck down 
into the depression, sneak along it, come up back 
of the little bush, and shoot from very close 
range. Leaving the gunbearers, we proceeded to 
do this. 

So quietly did we move that when we rose up back 
of the little bush a lioness lying under it with her 
cub was as surprised as we were! 

Indeed, I do not think she knew what we were, for 
instead of attacking, she leaped out the other side 
the bush, uttering a startled snarl. At once she 
whirled to come at us, but the brief respite had 
allowed us to recover our own scattered wits. As 
she turned I caught her broadside through the heart. 
Although this shot knocked her down, F. immedi- 
ately followed it with another for safety's sake. 
We found that actually we had just missed stepping 
on her tail! 

The cub we caught a glimpse of. He was about 
the size of a setter dog. We tried hard to find him, 
but failed. The lioness was an unusually large one, 
probably about as big as the female ever grows, 
measuring nine feet six inches in length, and three 
feet eight inches tall at the shoulder. 

289 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Billy had her funny times housekeeping. The 
kitchen department never quite ceased marvelling 
at her. Whenever she went to the cook-camp to 
deliver her orders she was surrounded by an atten- 
tive and respectful audience. One day, after hold- 
ing forth for some time in Swahili, she found that she 
had been standing hobnailed on one of the boy's 
feet. 

"Why, Mahomet!" she cried. "That must have 
hurt you 1 Why didn't you tell me.?" 

"Memsahib," he smiled politely, "I think perhaps 
you move some time!" 

On another occasion she was trying to tell the 
cook, through Mahomet as interpreter, that she 
wanted a tough old buffalo steak pounded, boarding- 
house style. This evidently puzzled all hands. 
They turned to in an earnest discussion of what it 
was all about, anyway. Billy understood Swahili 
well enough at that time to gather that they could 
not understand the Memsahib's wanting the meat 
"kibokoed" — flogged. Was it a religious rite, or a 
piece of revenge.'' They gave it up. 

"All right," said Mahomet patiently at last. "He 
say he do it. Which one is it? " 

Part of our supplies comprised tins of dehydrated 
fruit. One evening Billy decided to have a grand 
celebration, so she passed out a tin marked "rhu- 

290 



ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA 

barb" and some cornstarch, together with suitable 
instructions for a fruit pudding. In a Httle while 
the cook returned. 

"Nataka m'tunde — I want fruit," said he. 

Billy pointed out, severely, that he already had 
fruit. He went away shaking his head. Evening 
and the pudding came. It looked good, and we con- 
gratulated Billy on her culinary enterprise. Being 
hungry, we took big mouthfuls. There followed 
splutterings and investigations. The rhubarb can 
proved to be an old one containing heavy gun 
grease 1 

When finally we parted with our faithful cook we 
bought him a really wonderful many bladed knife 
as a present. On seeing it he slumped to the ground 
— six feet of lofty dignity — and began to weep 
violently, rocking back and forth in an excess of 
grief. 

"Why, what is it?" we inquired, alarmed. 

"Oh, Memsahib!" he wailed, the tears coursing 
down his cheeks, "I wanted a watch!" 

One morning about nine o'clock we were ridmg 
along at the edge of a grass-grown savannah, with a 
low hill to our right and another about four hundred 
yards ahead. Suddenly two rhinoceroses came to 
their feet some fifty yards to our left, out in the 

291 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

high grass, and stood looking uncertainly in our 
direction. 

"Look out! Rhinos!" I warned instantly. 

"Why — why!" gasped Billy in an astonished 
tone of voice, "they have manes!" 

In some concern for her sanity I glanced in her 
direction. She was staring, not to her left, but 
straight ahead. I followed the direction of her gaze, 
to see three lions moving across the face of the hill. 

Instantly we dropped off our horses. We wanted 
a shot at those lions very much indeed, but were 
hampered in our efforts by the two rhinoceroses, now 
stamping, snorting, and mxoving slowly in our direc- 
tion. The language we muttered was racy, but we 
dropped to a kneeling position and opened fire on 
the disappearing lions. It was most distinctly a 
case of divided attention, one eye on those menacing 
rhinos, and one trying to attend to the always deli- 
cate operation of aligning sights and signalling from 
a rather distracted brain just when to pull the trigger. 
Our faithful gunbearers crouched by us, the heavy 
guns ready. 

One rhino seemed either peaceable or stupid. He 
showed no inclination either to attack or to depart, 
but was willing to back whatever play his friend 
might decide on. The friend charged toward us 
until wc began to think he meant battle, stopped, 




'These wart-hogs are most comical brutes." 







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ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA 

thought a moment, and then, followed by his com- 
panion, trotted slowly across our bows about eighty 
yards away, while we continued our long range prac- 
tice at the lions over their backs. 

In this we were not winning many cigars. F. had 
a 280-calibre rifle shooting the Ross cartridge through 
the much advertised grooveless oval bore. It was 
little accurate beyond a hundred yards. Memba 
Sasa had thrust the 405 into my hand, knowing it 
for the "lion gun," and kept just out of reach with 
the long-range Springfield. I had no time to argue 
the matter with him. The 405 has a trajectory like 
a rainbow at that distance, and I was guessing at it, 
and not making very good guesses either. B. had his 
Springfield and made closer practice, finally hitting 
a leg of one of the beasts. We saw him lift his paw 
and shake it, but he did not move lamely afterward, 
so the damage was probably confined to a simple 
scrape. It was a good shot anyway. Then they 
disappeared over the top of the hill. 

We walked forward, regretting rhinos. Thirty 
yards ahead of me came a thunderous and roaring 
growl, and a magnificent old lion reared his head 
from a low bush. He evidently intended mischief, 
for I could see his tail switching. However, B. 
had killed only one lion and I wanted very much to 
give him the shot. Therefore, I held the front sight 

293 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

on the middle of his chest, and uttered a fervent 
wish to myself that B. would hurry up. In about 
ten seconds the muzzle of his rifle poked over my 
shoulder, so I resigned the job. 

At B.'s shot the lion fell over, but was immediately 
up and trying to get at us. Then we saw that his 
hind quarters were paralyzed. He was a most mag- 
nificent sight as he reared his fine old head, roaring 
at us full mouthed so that the very air trembled. 
Billy had a good look at a lion in action. B. took up 
a commanding position on an ant hill to one side 
with his rifle levelled. F. and I advanced slowly side 
by side. At twelve feet from the wounded beast we 
stopped, F. unlimbered the kodak, while I held the 
bead of the 405 between the lion's eyes, ready to 
press trigger at the first forward movement, however 
slight. Thus we took several exposures in the two 
cameras. Unfortunately one of the cameras fell 
in the river the next day. The other contained but 
one exposure. While not so spectacular as some of 
those spoiled, it shows very well the erect mane, lhe 
wicked narrowing of the eyes, the flattening of the 
ears of an angry lion. You must imagine, further- 
more, the deep rumbling diapason of his growling. 

We backed away, and B. puc in the finishing shot. 
The first bullet, we then found, had penetrated the 
kidneys, thus inflicting a temporary paralysis. 

294 



ADVENTURES ALONG THE TANA 

When we came to skin him we found an old- 
fashioned lead bullet between the bones of his right 
forepaw. The entrance wound had so entirely 
healed over that hardly the trace of a scar remained. 
From what I know of the character of these beasts, 
I have no doubt that this ancient injury furnished 
the reason for his staying to attack us instead of 
departing with the other three lions over the hill. 

Following the course of the river, we one afternoon 
came around a bend on a huge herd of mixed game 
that had been down to water. The river, a quite 
impassable barrier, lay to our right, and an equally 
impassable precipitous ravine barred their flight 
ahead. They were forced to cross our front, quite 
close, within the hundred yards. We stopped to 
watch them go, a seemingly endless file of them, some 
very much frightened, bounding spasmodically as 
though stung; others, more philosophical, loping 
easily and unconcernedly; still others — a few — 
even stopping for a moment to get a good view of us. 
The very young creatures, as always, bounced along 
absolutely stiff-legged, exactly like wooden animals 
suspended by an elastic, touching the ground and 
rebounding high, without a bend of the knee nor an 
apparent effort of the muscles. Young animals 
seem to have to learn how to bend their legs for the 

295 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

most efficient travel. The same is true of human 
babies as well. In this herd were, we estimated, 
some four or five hundred beasts. 

While hunting near the foothills I came across the 
body of a large eagle suspended by one leg from the 
crotch of a limb. The bird's talon had missed its 
grip, probably on alighting, the tarsus had slipped 
through the crotch beyond the joint, the eagle had 
fallen forward, and had never been able to flop itself 
back to an upright position! 



296 



XXI 

THE RHINOCEROS 

THE rhinoceros is, with the giraffe, the hippo- 
potamus, the gerenuk, and the camel, one of 
Africa's unbelievable animals. Nobody has bet- 
tered Kipling's description of him in the Just-so 
Stories: "A horn on his nose, piggy eyes, and few 
manners." He lives a self-centred life, wrapped up 
in the porcine contentment that broods within nor 
looks abroad over the land. When anything external 
to himself and his food and drink penetrates to his 
intelligence he makes a flurried fool of himself, rush- 
ing madly and frantically here and there in a hys- 
terical effort either to destroy or get away from the 
cause of disturbance. He is the incarnation of a liv- 
ing and perpetual Grouch. 

Generally he lives by himself, sometimes with his 
spouse, more rarely still with a third that is prob- 
ably a grown-up son or daughter. I personally have 
never seen more than three in company. Some 
observers have reported larger bands, or rather col- 
lections, but, lacking other evidence, I should be 

297 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

inclined to suspect that some circumstance of food 
or water rather than a sense of gregariousness had 
attracted a number of individuals to one locality. 

The rhinoceros has three objects in life: to fill his 
stomach with food and water, to stand absolutely 
motionless under a bush, and to imitate ant hills 
when he lies down in the tall grass. When dis- 
turbed at any of these occupations he snorts. The 
snort sounds exactly as though the safety valve of 
a locomotive had suddenly opened and as suddenly 
shut again after two seconds of escaping steam. 
Then he puts his head down and rushes madly in 
some direction, generally upwind. As he weighs 
about two tons, and can, in spite of his appearance, 
get over the ground nearly as fast as an ordinary 
horse, he is a truly imposing sight, especially since 
the innocent bystander generally happens to be 
upwind, and hence in the general path of progress. 
This is because the rhino's scent is his keenest sense, 
and through it he becomes aware, in the majority of 
times, of man's presence. His sight is very poor 
indeed; he cannot see clearly even a moving object 
much beyond fifty yards. He can, however, hear 
pretty well. 

The novice, then, is subjected to what he calls a 
"vicious charge" on the part of the rhinoceros, 
merely because his scent was borne to the beast 

298 



THE RHINOCEROS 

from upwind, and the rhino naturally runs away 
upwind. He opens fire, and has another thrilling 
adventure to relate. As a matter of fact, if he had 
approached from the other side, and then aroused 
the animal with a clod of earth, the beast would 
probably have "charged" away in identically the 
same direction. I am convinced from a fairly varied 
experience that this is the basis for most of the thrill- 
ing experiences with rhinoceroses. 

But whatever the beast's first mental attitude, the 
danger is quite real. In the beginning he rushes 
upwind in instinctive reaction against the strange 
scent. If he catches sight of the man at all, it must be 
after he has approached to pretty close range, for only 
at close range are the rhino's eyes effective. Then 
he is quite likely to finish what was at first a blind 
dash by a genuine charge. Whether this is from 
malice or from the panicky feeling that he is now too 
close to attempt to get away, I never was able to 
determine. It is probably in the majority of cases 
the latter. This seems indicated by the fact that 
the rhino, if avoided in his first rush, will generally 
charge right through and keep on going. Occasion- 
ally, however, he will whirl and come back to the 
attack. There can then be no doubt that he actually 
intends mischief. 

Nor must it be forgotten that with these animals, 
299 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

as with all others, not enough account Is taken of 
individual variation. They, as well as man, and as 
well as other animals, have their cowards, their 
fighters, their slothful and their enterprising. And, 
too, there seem to be truculent and peaceful districts. 
North of Mt. Kenia, between that peak and the 
Northern Guaso Nyero River, we saw many rhinos, 
none of which showed the slightest disposition to 
turn ugly. In fact, they were so peaceful that they 
scrabbled off as fast as they could go every time they 
either scented, heard, or saw us; and in their flight 
they held their noses up, not down. In the wide 
angle between the Tana and Thika rivers, and 
comprising the Yatta Plains, and in the thickets of 
the Tsavo, the rhinoceroses generally ran nose down 
in a position of attack and were much inclined to 
let their angry passions master them at the sight of 
man. Thus we never had our safari scattered by 
rhinoceroses in the former district, while in the lat- 
ter the boys were up trees six times in the course of 
one morning! Carl Akeley, with a moving picture 
machine, could not tease a charge out of a rhino in a 
dozen tries, while Dugmore, in a different part of the 
country, was so chivied about that he finally left 
the district to avoid killing any more of the brutes 
in self-defence! 

The fact of the matter is that the rhinoceros is 
300 



THE RHINOCEROS 

neither animated by the implacable man-destroying 
passion ascribed to him by the amateur hunter, nor 
is he so purposeless and haphazard in his rushes as 
some would have us believe. On being disturbed 
his instinct is to get away. He generally tries to 
get away in the direction of the disturbance, or up- 
wind, as the case may be. If he catches sight of the 
cause of disturbance he is apt to try to trample and 
gore it, whatever it is. As his sight is short, he 
will sometimes so inflict punishment on unoffending 
bushes. In doing this he is probably not animated 
by a consuming destructive blind rage, but by a 
naturally pugnacious desire to eliminate sources of 
annoyance. Missing a definite object, he thunders 
right through and disappears without trying again 
to discover what has aroused him. 

This first rush is not a charge in the sense that 
it is an attack on a definite object. It may not, 
and probably will not, amount to a charge at all, for 
the beast will blunder through without ever defining 
more clearly the object of his blind dash. That 
dash is likely, however, at any moment, to turn into 
a definite charge should the rhinoceros happen to 
catch sight of his disturber. Whether the impelling 
motive would then be a mistaken notion that on the 
part of the beast he was so close he had to fight, or 
just plain malice, would not matter. At such times 

3«i 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the intended victim is not interested in the rhino's 
mental processes. 

Owing to his size, his powerful armament, and his 
incredible quickness the rhinoceros is a dangerous 
animal at all times, to be treated with respect and 
due caution. This is proved by the number of white 
men, out of a sparse population, that are annually 
tossed and killed by the brutes, and by the prompt- 
ness with which the natives take to trees — thorn 
trees at that! — when the cry oi faruf is raised. As 
he comes rushing in your direction, head down and 
long weapon pointed, tail rigidly erect, ears up, the 
earth trembling with his tread and the air with his 
snorts, you suddenly feel very small and Ineffective. 

If you keep cool, however, it is probable that the 
encounter will result only in a lot of mental perturba- 
tion for the rhino and a bit of excitement for your- 
self. If there is any cover you should duck down 
behind it and move rapidlj^ but quietly to one side 
or another of the line of advance. If there Is no 
cover, you should crouch low and hold still. The 
chances are he will pass to one side or the other of 
you, and go snorting away into the distance. Keep 
your eye on him very closely. If he swerves defi- 
nitely in your direction, and drops his head a little 
lower, it would be just as well to open fire. Provided 
the beast was still far enough away to give me " sea- 

302 





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^^^KT- MIMIlWir*^ ^' -jj 





Rhinoceros charging. 



^■r^yif^l^K-s^' . frfrftf^ 




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"The beast's companion refused to leave the dead body." 




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THE RHINOCEROS 

room," I used to put a small bullet in the flesh of the 
outer part of the shoulder. The wound thus in- 
flicted was not at all serious, but the shock of the 
bullet usually turned the beast. This was generally 
in the direction of the wounded shoulder, which 
would indicate that the brute turned toward the ap- 
parent source of the attack, probably for the purpose 
of getting even. At any rate, the shot turned the 
rush to one side, and the rhinoceros, as usual, went 
right on through. If, however, he seemed to mean 
business, or was too close for comfort, the point to 
aim for was the neck just above the lowered horn. 

In my own experience I came to establish a 
*' dead line " about twenty yards from myself. That 
seemed to be as near as I cared to let the brutes 
come. Up to that point I let them alone on the 
chance that they might swerve or change their minds, 
as they often did. But inside of twenty yards, 
whether the rhinoceros meant to charge me, or was 
merely running blindly by, did not particularly 
matter. Even in the latter case he might happen to 
catch sight of me and change his mind. Thus, 
looking over my notebook records, I find that I was 
"charged" forty odd times — that is to say, the 
rhinoceros rushed in my general direction. Of this 
lot I can be sure of but three, and possibly four, that 
certainly meant mischief. Six more came so directly 

303 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

at us, and continued so to come, that in spite of our- 
selves we were compelled to kill them. The rest 
were successfully dodged. 

As I have heard old hunters, of many times my 
experience, affirm that only in a few instances have 
they themselves been charged indubitably and with 
malice aforethought, it might be well to detail my 
reasons for believing myself definitely and not 
blindly attacked. 

The first Instance was that when B. killed his 
second trophy rhinoceros. The beast's companion 
refused to leave the dead body for a long time, but 
finally withdrew. On our approaching, however, 
and after we had been some moments occupied with 
the trophy, it returned and charged viciously. It 
was finally killed at fifteen yards. 

The second instance was of a rhinoceros that got 
up from the grass sixty yards away, and came head- 
long in my direction. At the moment I was stand- 
ing on the edge of a narrow eroded ravine, ten feet 
deep, with perpendicular sides. The rhinoceros 
came on bravely to the edge of this ravine — and 
stopped. Then he gave an exhibition of unmiti- 
gated bad temper most amusing to contemplate — 
from my safe position. He snorted, and stamped, 
and pawed the earth, and ramped up and down at a 
great rate. I sat on the opposite bank and laughed 

304 



THE RHINOCEROS 

at him. This did not please him a bit, but after 
many short rushes to the edge of the ravine, he gave 
it up and departed slowly, his tail very erect and 
rigid. From the persistency with which he tried to 
get at me, I cannot but think he intended something 
of the sort from the first. 

The third instance was much more aggravating. 
In company with Memba Sasa and Fundi I left camp 
early one morning to get a waterbuck. Four or five 
hundred yards out, however, we came on fresh buf- 
falo signs, not an hour old. To one who knew any- 
thing of buffaloes' habits this seemed like an excellent 
chance, for at this time of the morning they should 
be feeding not far away preparatory to seeking cover 
for the day. Therefore we immediately took up the 
trail. 

It led us over hills, through valleys, high grass, 
burned country, brush, thin scrub, and small wood- 
land alternately. Unfortunately we had happened 
on these buffalo just as they were about changing 
district, and they were therefore travelling steadily. 
At times the trail was easy to follow, and at other 
times we had to cast about very diligently to find 
traces of the direction even such huge animals had 
taken. It was interesting work, however, and we 
drew on steadily, keeping a sharp lookout ahead in 
case the buffalo had come to a halt in some shady 

305 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

thicket out of the sun. As the latter ascended the 
heavens and the scorching heat increased, our con- 
fidence in nearing our quarry ascended likewise, for 
we knew that buffaloes do not like great heat. Never- 
theless this band continued straight on its way. I 
think now they must have got scent of our camp, and 
had therefore decided to move to one of the alternate 
and widely separated feeding grounds every herd 
keeps in its habitat. Only at noon, and after six 
hours of steady trailing, covering perhaps a dozen 
miles, did we catch them up. 

From the start we had been bothered with rhinoc- 
eroses. Five times did we encounter them, standing 
almost squarely on the line of the spoor we were 
following. Then we had to make a wide quiet 
circle to leeward in order to avoid disturbing them, 
and were forced to a very minute search in order to 
pick up the buffalo tracks again on the other side. 
This was at once an anxiety and a delay, and we did 
not love those rhino. 

Finally, at the very edge of the Yatta Plains we 
overtook the herd, resting for noon in a scattered 
thicket. Leaving Fundi, I, with Memba Sasa, 
stalked down to them. We crawled and crept by 
inches flat to the ground, which was so hot that it 
fairly burned the hand. The sun beat down on us 
fiercely, and the air was close and heavy even among 

306 




"At first the traveller is pleased and curious over 
rhinoceros." 




'And departed over the hills." 




3 
^ 



< 




THE RHINOCEROS 

the scanty grass tufts in which we were trying to get 
cover. It was very hard work indeed, but after a 
half hour of it we gained a thin bush not over thirty 
yards from a half dozen dark and indeterminate 
bodies dozing in the very centre of a brush patch. 
Cautiously I wiped the sweat from my eyes and 
raised my glasses. It was slow work and patient 
work, picking out and examining each individual 
beast from the mass. Finally the job was done. I 
let fall my glasses. 

"Monumookee y'otey — all cows," I whispered 
to Memba Sasa, 

We backed out of there inch by inch, with the 
intention of circling a short distance to the leeward, 
and then trying the herd again lower down. But 
some awkward slight movement, probably on my 
part, caught the eye of one of those blessed cows. 
She threw up her head; instantly the whole thicket 
seemed alive with beasts. We could hear them crash- 
ing and stamping, breaking the brush, rushing head- 
long and stopping again; we could even catch 
momentary glimpses of dark bodies. After a few 
minutes we saw the mass of the herd emerge from 
the thicket five hundred yards away and flow up 
over the hill. There were probably a hundred and 
fifty of them, and, looking through my glasses, I saw 
.among them two fine old bulls. They were of course 

307 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

not much alarmed, as only the one cow knew what 
it was all about anyway, and I suspected they would 
stop at the next thicket. 

We had only one small canteen of water with us, 
but we divided that. It probably did us good, but 
the quantity was not sufficient to touch our thirst. 
For the remainder of the day we suffered rather 
severely, as the sun was fierce. 

After a short interval we followed on after the 
buffaloes. Within a half mile beyond the crest of the 
hill over which they had disappeared was another 
thicket. At the very edge of the thicket, asleep 
under an outlying bush, stood one of the big bulls! 

Luck seemed with us at last. The wind was right, 
and between us and the bull lay only four hundred 
yards of knee-high grass. All we had to do was to 
get down on our hands and knees, and, without 
further precautions, crawl up within range and pot 
him. That meant only a bit of hard, hot work. 

When we were about halfway a rhinoceros sud- 
denly arose from the grass between us and the 
buffalo, and about one hundred yards away. 

What had aroused him, at that distance and up- 
wind, I do not know. It hardly seemed possible 
that he could have heard us, for we were moving 
very quietly, and, as I say, we were downwind. 
However, there he was on his feet, snifRng now this 

308 



THE RHINOCEROS 

way, now that, in search for what had alarmed him. 
We sank out of sight and lay low, fully expecting 
that the brute would make off. 

For just twenty-five minutes by the watch that 
rhinoceros looked and looked deliberately in all 
directions while we lay hidden waiting for him to get 
over it. Sometimes he would start off quite con- 
fidently for fifty or sixty yards, so that we thought at 
last we were rid of him, but always he returned to the 
exact spot where we had first seen him, there to 
stamp, and blow. The buffalo paid no attention to 
these manifestations. I suppose everybody in jun- 
gleland is accustomed to rhinoceros bad temper 
over nothing. Twice he came in our direction, but 
both times gave it up after advancing twenty- 
five yards or so. We lay flat on our faces, the 
vertical sun slowly roasting us, and cursed that 
rhino. 

Now the significance of this incident is twofold: 
first, the fact that, instead of rushing off^ at the first 
intimation of our presence, as would the average 
rhino, he went methodically to work to find us; 
second, that he displayed such remarkable per- 
severance as to keep at it nearly a half hour. This 
was a spirit quite at variance with that finding its 
expression in the blind rush or in the sudden pas- 
sionate attack. From that point of view it seems 

309 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

to me that the interest and significance of the in- 
cident can hardly be overstated. 

Four or five times we thought ourselves freed from 
the nuisance, but always, just as we were about to 
move on, back he came, as eager as ever to nose us 
out. Finally he gave it up, and, at a slow trot, 
started to go away from there. And out of the three 
hundred and sixty degrees of the circle where he 
might have gone he selected just our direction. Note 
that this was downwind for him, and that rhinoc- 
eroses usually escape upwind. 

We laid very low, hoping that, as before, he would 
change his mind as to direction. But now he was 
no longer looking, but travelling. Nearer and 
nearer he came. We could see plainly his little eyes, 
and hear the regular szvish, swish, swish of his thick 
legs brushing through the grass. The regularity of 
his trot never varied, but to me lying there directly 
in his path, he seemed to be coming on altogether 
too fast for comfort. From our low level he looked 
as big as a barn. Memba Sasa touched me lightly 
on the leg. I hated to shoot, but finally when he 
loomed fairly over us I saw it must be now or never. 
If I allowed him to come closer, he must indubitably 
catch the first movement of my gun and so charge 
right on us before I would have time to deliver even 
an ineffective shot. Therefore, most reluctantly, I 

310 



THE RHINOCEROS 

placed the ivory bead of the great Holland gun just 
to the point of his shoulder and pulled the trigger. 
So close was he that as he toppled forward I instinc- 
tively, though unnecessarily of course, shrank back 
as though he might fall on me. Fortunately I had 
picked my spot properly, and no second shot was 
necessary. He fell just twenty-seven feet — nine 
yards — from where we lay! 

The buffalo vanished into the blue. We were left 
with a dead rhino, which we did not want, twelve 
miles from camp, and no water. It was a hard hike 
back, but we made it finally, though nearly perished 
from thirst. 

This beast, be it noted, did not charge us at all, 
but I consider him as one of the three undoubtedly 
animated by hostile intentions. Of the others I can, 
at this moment, remember five that might or might 
not have been actually and maliciously charging 
when they were killed or dodged. I am no mind 
reader for rhinoceros. Also I am willing to believe 
in their entirely altruistic intentions. Only, if they 
want to get the practical results of their said altruis- 
tic intentions they must really refrain from coming 
straight at me nearer than twenty yards. It has 
been stated that if one stands perfectly still until the 
rhinoceros is just six feet away, and then jumps side- 
ways, the beast will pass him. I never happened to 

311 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

meet anybody who had acted on this theory. I 
suppose that such exist: though I doubt if any per- 
sistent exponent of the art is likely to exist long. 
Personally I like my own method, and stoutly main- 
tain that, within twenty yards it is up to the rhinoc- 
eros to begin to do the dodging. 



312 



XXII 

THE RHINOCEROS— (continued) 

AT FIRST the traveller is pleased and curious 
over rhinoceros. After he has seen and en- 
countered eight or ten, he begins to look upon them 
as an unmitigated nuisance. By the time he has 
done a week in thick rhino-infested scrub he gets 
fairly to hating them. 

They are bad enough in the open plains, where 
they can be seen and avoided, but in the tall grass 
or the scrub they are a continuous anxiety. No 
cover seems small enough to reveal them. Often 
they will stand or lie absolutely immobile until you 
are within a very short distance, and then will out- 
rageously break out. They are, in spite of their 
clumsy build, as quick and active as polo ponies, 
and are the only beasts I know of capable of leaping 
into full speed ahead from a recumbent position. 
In thorn scrub they are the worst, for there, no 
matter how alert the traveller may hold himself, 
he is likely to come around a bush smack on one. 
And a dozen times a day the throat-stopping, abrupt 

313 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

crash and smash to right or left brings him up all 
standing, his heart racing, the blood pounding 
through his veins. It is jumpy work, and is very 
hard on the temper. In the natural reaction from 
being startled into fits one snaps back to profanity. 
The cumulative effects of the epithets hurled after a 
departing and inconsiderately hasty rhinoceros may 
have done something toward ruining the temper of 
the species. It does not matter whether or not the 
individual beast proves dangerous; he is inevitably 
most startling. I have come in at night with my 
eyes fairly aching from spying for rhinos during a 
day's journey through high grass. 

And, as a friend remarked, rhinos are such a 
mussy death. One poor chap, killed while we were 
away on our first trip, could not be moved from the 
spot where he had been trampled. A few shovelfuls 
of earth over the remains was all the rhinoceros had 
left possible. 

Fortunately, in the thick stuff especially, it is 
often possible to avoid the chance rhinoceros through 
the warning given by the rhinoceros birds. These 
are birds about the size of a robin that accompany 
the beast everywhere. They sit in a row along his 
back occupying themselves with ticks and a good 
place to roost. Always they are peaceful and quiet 
until a human being approaches. Then they flutter 

314 



THE RHINOCEROS 

a few feet into the air uttering a peculiar rapid 
chattering. Writers with more sentiment than sense 
of proportion assure us that this warns the rhinoc- 
eros of approaching danger. On the contrary, I 
always looked at it the other way. The rhinoceros 
birds thereby warned me of danger, and I was duly 
thankful. 

The safari boys stand quite justly in a holy awe of 
the rhino. The safari is strung out over a mile or 
two of country, as a usual thing, and a downwind 
rhino is sure to pierce some part of the line in his 
rush. Then down go the loads with a smash, and 
up the nearest trees swarm the boys. Usually their 
refuges are thorn trees, armed, even on the main 
trunk, with long sharp spikes. There is no difficulty 
in going up, but the gingerly coming down, after all 
the excitement has died, is a matter of deliberation 
and of voices uplifted in woe. Cuninghame tells 
of an inadequate slender and springy, but solitary, 
sapling into which swarmed half his safari on the 
advent of a rambunctious rhino. The tree swayed 
and bent and cracked alarmingly, threatening to 
dump the whole lot on the ground. At each crack 
the boys yelled. This attracted the rhinoceros, 
which immediately charged the tree full tilt. He hit 
square, the tree shivered and creaked, the boys 
wound their arms and legs around the slender sup- 

31S 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

port and howled frantically. Again and again the 
rhinoceros drew back to repeat his butting of that 
tree. By the time Cuninghame reached the spot, 
the tree, with its despairing burden of black 
birds, was clinging to the soil by its last remaining 
roots. 

In the Nairobi Club I met a gentleman with one 
arm gone at the shoulder. He told his story in a 
slightly bored and drawling voice, picking his words 
very carefully, and evidently most occupied with 
neither understating nor overstating the case. It 
seems he had been out, and had killed some sort of a 
buck. While his men were occupied with this, he 
strolled on alone to see what he could find. He found 
a rhinoceros, that charged viciously, and into which 
he emptied his gun. 

"When I came to," he said, "it was just coming on 
dusk, and the lions were beginning to grunt. My arm 
was completely crushed, and I was badly bruised 
and knocked about. As near as I could remember 
I was fully ten miles from camp. A circle of carrion 
birds stood all about me not more than ten feet away, 
and a great many others were flapping over me and 
fighting in the air. These last were so close that I 
could feel the wind from their wings. It was 
rawther gruesome." He paused and thought a 
moment, as though weighing his words. "In fact," 

316 



THE RHINOCEROS 

he added with an air of final conviction, "It was 
quite gruesome!" 

The most calm and imperturbable rhinoceros I 
ever saw was one that made us a call on the Thika 
River. It was just noon, and our boys were making 
camp after a morning's march. The usual racket 
was on, and the usual varied movement of rather 
confused industry. Suddenly silence fell. We came 
out of the tent to see the safari gazing spellbound in 
one direction. There was a rhinoceros wandering 
peaceably over the little knoll back of camp, and 
headed exactly in our direction. While we watched, 
he strolled through the edge of camp, descended 
the steep bank to the river's edge, drank, climbed 
the bank, strolled through camp again and departed 
over the hill. To us he paid not the slightest atten- 
tion. It seems impossible to believe that he neither 
scented nor saw any evidences of human life in all 
that populated flat, especially when one considers 
how often these beasts will seem to become aware 
of man's presence by telepathy.* Perhaps he was 
the one exception to the whole race, and was a good- 
natured rhino. 

The babies are astonishing and amusing creatures, 
with blunt noses on which the horns are just begin- 

*Opposing theories are those of "instinct," and of slight causes, such as grass- 
hopper* feaping before the hunter's feet, not noticed by the mao Appma^iuag. 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ning to form, and with even fewer manners than their 
parents. The mere fact of an 800-pound baby does 
not cease to be curious. They are truculent little 
creatures, and sometimes rather hard to avoid when 
they get on the warpath. Generally, as far as my 
observation goes, the mother gives birth to but one 
at a time. There may be occasional twin births, 
but I happen never to have met so interesting a 
family. 

Rhinoceroses are still very numerous — too numer- 
ous. I have seen as many as fourteen in two hours, 
and probably could have found as many more if I had 
been searching for them. There is no doubt, how- 
ever, that this species must be the first to disappear 
of the larger African animals. His great size com- 
bined with his 'orrid 'abits mark him for early de- 
struction. No such dangerous lunatic can be allowed 
at large in a settled country, nor in a country where 
men are travelling constantly. The species will 
probably be preserved in appropriate restricted 
areas. It would be a great pity to have so perfect 
an example of the Prehistoric Pinhead wiped out 
completely. Elsewhere he will diminish, and finally 
disappear. 

For one thing, and for one thing only, is the travel- 
ler indebted to the rhinoceros. The beast is lazy, 
large, and has an excellent eye for easy ways through. 

318 



■J 





'The babies are astonishing and amusing creatures. 




■'Descended the steep bank to the river's edge. 



H'-'T-'^ 




THE RHINOCEROS 

For this reason, as regards the question of good roads, 
he combines the excellent qualities of Public Senti- 
ment, the Steam Roller, and the Expert Engineer. 
Through thorn thickets impenetrable to anything 
less armoured than a dreadnaught like himself he 
clears excellent paths. Down and out of eroded 
ravines with perpendicular sides he makes excellent 
wide trails, tramped hard, on easy grades, often with 
zigzags to ease the slant. In some of the high coun- 
try where the torrential rains wash hundreds of such 
gullies across the line of march it is hardly an exag- 
geration to say that travel would be practically 
impossible without the rhino trails wherewith to 
cross. Sometimes the perpendicular banks will ex- 
tend for miles without offering any natural break 
down to the stream-bed. Since this is so I respect- 
fully submit to Government the following proposal: 

(a) That a limited number of these beasts shall be 
licensed as Trail Rhinos; and that all the rest shall 
be killed from the settled and regularly travelled 
districts. 

(b) That these Trail Rhinos shall be suitably 
hobbled by short steel chains. 

(c) That each Trail Rhino shall carry painted con- 
spicuously on his side his serial number. 

(d) That as a further precaution for public safety 
each Trail Rhino shall carry firmly attached to his 

319 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

tail a suitable red warning flag. Thus the well- 
known habit of the rhinoceros of elevating his tail 
rigidly when about to charge, or when in the act of 
charging, will fly the flag as a warning to travellers. 

(e) That an official shall be appointed to be known 
as the Inspector of Rhinos whose duty it shall be 
to examine the hobbles, numbers and fiags of all 
Trail Rhinos, and to keep the same in due working 
order and repair. 

And I do submit to all and sundry that the above 
resolutions have as much sense to them as have most 
of the petitions submitted to Government by settlers 
in a new country. 



320 



XXIII 
THE HIPPO POOL 

FOR a number of days we camped in a grove 
just above a dense jungle and not fifty paces 
from the bank of a deep and wide river. We could 
at various points push through light low under- 
growth, or stoop beneath clear limbs, or emerge on 
tiny open banks and promontories to look out over 
the width of the stream. The river here was some 
three or four hundred feet wide. It cascaded down 
through various large boulders and sluiceways to 
fall bubbling and boiling into deep water; it then 
flowed still and sluggish for nearly a half mile and 
finally divided into channels around a number of 
wooded islands of different sizes. In the long still 
stretch dwelt about sixty hippopotamuses of all 
sizes. 

During our stay these hippos led a life of alarmed 
and angry care. When we first arrived they were 
distributed picturesquely on banks or sandbars, or 
were lying in midstream. At once they disappeared 
under water. By the end of four or five minutes they 

321 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

began to come to the surface. Each beast took one 
disgusted look, snorted, and sank again. So hasty 
was his action that he did not even take time to get 
a full breath; consequently up he had to come In 
not more than two minutes, this time. The third 
submersion lasted less than a minute; and at the end 
of a half hour of yelling we had the hippos alter- 
nating between the bottom of the river and the sur- 
face of the water about as fast as they could make the 
round trip, blowing like porpoises. It was a comi- 
cal sight. And as some of the boys were always 
out watching the show, those hippos had no respite 
during the daylight hours. From a short distance 
inland the explosive blowing as they came to the 
surface sounded like the Irregular exhaust of a steam- 
engine. 

We camped at this spot four days; and never, in 
that length of time, during the daytime, did those 
hippopotamuses take any recreation and rest. To 
be sure after a little they calmed down sufBcIently 
to remain on the surface for a half minute or so. In- 
stead of gasping a mouthful of air and plunging be- 
low at once; but below was where they considered 
they belonged most of the time. We got to recognize 
certain individuals. They would stare at us fixedly 
for a while; and then would glump down out of sight 
like submarines. 

.^22 



THE HIPPO POOL 

When I saw them thus floating with only the very- 
top of the head and snout out of water, I for the first 
time appreciated why the Greeks had named them 
hippopotamuses — the river horses. With the heavy 
jowl hidden; and the prominent nostrils, the long 
reverse-curved nose, the wide eyes, and the little 
pointed ears alone visible, they resembled more than 
a little that sort of conventionalized and noble 
charger seen on the frieze of the Parthenon, or in the 
prancy paintings of the Renaissance. 

There were hippopotamuses of all sizes and of all 
colours. The little ones, not bigger than a grand 
piano, were of flesh pink. Those half-grown were 
mottled with pink and black in blotches. The 
adults were almost invariably all dark, though a few 
of them retained still a small pink spot or so — a 
sort of persistence in mature years of the eternal 
boy, I suppose. All were very sleek and shiny, with 
the wet; and they had a fashion of suddenly and 
violently wiggling one or the other or both of their 
little ears in ridiculous contrast to the fixed stare of 
their bung eyes. Generally they had nothing to say 
as to the situation, though occasionally some exas- 
perated old codger would utter a grumbling bellow 

The ground vegetation for a good quarter mile 
from the river bank was entirely destroyed, and the 
earth beaten and packed hard by these animals, 

323 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Landing trails had been made leading out from the 
water hy easy and regular grades. These trails 
were about two feet wide and worn a foot or so deep. 
They differed from the rhino trails, from which they 
could be easily distinguished, in that they showed 
distinctly two parallel tracks separated from each 
other by a slight ridge. In other words, the hippo 
waddles. These trails we found as far as four and 
five miles inland. They were used, of course, only 
at night; and led invariably to lush and heavy feed. 
While we were encamped there, the country on our 
side the river was not used by our particular herd 
of hippos. One night, however, we were awakened 
by a tremendous rending crash of breaking bushes, 
followed by an instant's silence and then the out- 
break of a babel of voices. Then we heard a pro- 
longed szv-i-sh-sh-sh, exactly like the launching of a 
big boat. A hippo had blundered out the wrong 
side the river, and fairly into our camp. 

In rivers such as the Tana these great beasts are 
most extraordinarily abundant. Directly in front 
of our camp, for example, were three separate herds 
which contained respectively about sixty, forty, and 
twenty-five head. Within two miles below camp 
were three other big pools each with its population; 
while a walk of a mile above showed about as many 
more. This sort of thing obtained for practically 

334 




"Funny Face." 




o 
o 

o 
a. 
a, 



< 



THE HIPPO POOL 

the whole length of the river — hundreds of miles. 
Furthermore, every little tributary stream, no mat- 
ter how small, provided it can muster a pool or so 
deep enough to submerge so large an animal, has 
its faithful band. I have known of a hippo quite 
happily occupying a ditch pool ten feet wide and 
fifteen feet long. There was literally not room 
enough for the beast to turn around; he had to go 
in at one end and out at the other! Each lake, too, 
is alive with them: and both lakes and rivers are 
many. 

Nobody disturbs hippos, save for trophies and an 
occasional supply of meat for the men, or of cooking 
fat for the kitchen. Therefore they wax fat and 
sassy, and will long continue to flourish in the land. 

It takes time to kill a hippo, provided one is 
wanted. The mark is small, and generally it is im- 
possible to tell whether or not the bullet has reached 
the brain. Harmed or whole the beast sinks any- 
way. Some hours later the distention of the stom- 
ach will float the body. Therefore the only decent 
way to do is to take the shot, and then wait a half 
day to see whether or not you have missed. There 
are always plenty of volunteers in camp to watch 
the pool, for the boys are extravagantly fond of 
hippo meat. Then it is necessary to manoeuvre a 
rope on the carcass, often a matter of great difliculty, 

32s 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

for the other hippos bellow and snort and generally 
try to live up to the circus posters of the Blood- 
sweating Behemoth of Holy Writ, and the crocodiles 
like dark meat very much. Usually one offers es- 
pecial reward to volunteers, and shoots into the 
water to frighten the beasts. The volunteer dashes 
rapidly across the shallows, makes a swift plunge, 
and clambers out on the floating body as onto a raft. 

Then he makes fast the rope, and everybody tails on 
and tows the whole outfit ashore. On one occasion 
the volunteer produced a fish line and actually 
caught a small fish from the floating carcass! This 
sounds like a good one; but I saw it with my own 
two eyes. 

It was at the hippo pool camp that we first be- 
came acquainted with Funny Face. 

Funny Face was the smallest, furriest little soft 
monkey you ever saw. I never cared for monkeys 
before; but this one was altogether engaging. He 
had thick soft fur almost like that on a Persian cat, 
and a tiny human black face, and hands that emerged 
from a ruff; and he was about as big as old-fashioned 
dolls used to be before they began to try to imitate 
real babies with them. That is to say, he was 
that big when we said farewell to him. When we 
first knew him, had he stood in a half pint measure 
he could just have seen over the rim. We caught 

326 



THE HIPPO POOL 

him in a little thorn ravine all by himself, a fact that 
perhaps indicates that his mother had been killed, 
or perhaps that he, like a good little Funny Face, was 
merely staying where he was told while she was 
away. At any rate he fought savagely, according 
to his small powers. We took him ignominiously 
by the scruff of the neck, haled him to camp, and 
dumped him down on Billy. Billy constructed him 
a beautiful belt by sacrificing part of a kodak strap 
(mine), and tied him to a chop box filled with dry 
grass. Thenceforth this became Funny Face's cas- 
tle, at home and on the march. 

Within a few hours his confidence in life was re- 
stored. He accepted small articles of food from our 
hands, eying us intently, retired and examined 
them. As they all proved desirable, he rapidly came 
to the conclusion that these new large strange mon- 
keys, while not so beautiful and agile as his own 
people, were nevertheless a good sort after all. 
Therefore he took us into his confidence. By next 
day he was quite tame, would submit to being picked 
up without struggling, and had ceased trying to take 
an end off our various fingers. In fact when the 
finger was presented, he would seize it in both small 
black hands; convey it to his mouth; give it several 
mild and gentle love-chews; and then, clasping it 
with all four hands, would draw himself up like a 

327 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

little athlete and seat himself upright on the out- 
spread palm. Thence he would survey the world, 
wrinkling up his tiny brow. 

This chastened and scholarly attitude of mind 
lasted for four or five days. Then Funny Face con- 
cluded that he understood all about it, had settled 
satisfactorily to himself all the problems of the world 
and his relations to it, and had arrived at a good 
working basis for life. Therefore these questions 
ceased to occupy him. He dismissed them from his 
mind completely, and gave himself over to light- 
hearted frivolity. 

His disposition was flighty but full of elusive charm. 
You deprecated his lack of serious purpose in life, 
disapproved heartily of his irresponsibility, but you 
fell to his engaging qualities. He was a typical 
example of the lovable good-for-naught. Nothing 
retained his attention for two consecutive min- 
utes. If he seized a nut and started for his chop 
box with it, the chances were he would drop it and 
forget all about it in the interest excited by a crawl- 
ing ant or the colour of a flower. His elfish face was 
always alight with the play of emotions and of 
flashing changing interests. He was greatly given 
to starting ofi^ on very important errands, which he 
forgot before he arrived. 

In this he contrasted strangely with his friend 
328 



THE HIPPO POOL 

Darwin. Darwin was another monkey of the same 
species, caught about a week later. Darwin's face 
was sober and pondering, and his methods direct 
and effective. No side excursions into the briU 
liant though evanescent fields of fancy diverted 
him from his ends. These were, generally, to get 
the most and best food and the warmest corner for 
sleep. When he had acquired a nut, a kernel of 
corn, or a piece of fruit, he sat him down and ex- 
amined it thoroughly and conscientiously and then, 
conscientiously and thoroughly, he devoured it. 
No extraneous interest could distract his attention; 
not for a moment. That he had sounded the seri- 
ousness of life is proved by the fact that he had ob- 
served and understood the flighty character of Funny 
Face. When Funny Face acquired a titbit, Darwin 
took up a hump-backed position near at hand, his 
bright little eyes fixed on his friend's activities. 
Funny Face would nibble relishingly at his prune 
for a moment or so; then an altogether astonishing 
butterfly would flitter by just overhead. Funny 
Face, lost in ecstasy would gaze skyward after the 
departing marvel. This was Darwin's opportunity. 
In two hops he was at Funny Face's side. With 
great deliberation, but most businesslike directness, 
Darwin disengaged Funny Face's unresisting fingers 
from the prune, seized it, and retired. Funny Face 

329 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

never knew it: his soul was far away after the 
blazoned wonder, and when it returned, it was not 
to prunes at all. They were forgotten, and his 
wandering eye focussed back to a bright button in 
the grass. Thus by strict attention to business did 
Darwin prosper. 

Darwin's attitude was always serious, and his 
expression grave. When he condescended to romp 
with Funny Face one could see that it v/as not for 
the mere joy of sport; but for the purposes of re- 
laxation. If offered a gift he always examined it 
seriously before finally accepting it, turning it over 
and over in his hands, and considering it with wrin- 
kled brow. If you offered anything to Funny Face, 
no matter what, he dashed up, seized it on the fly, 
departed at speed uttering grateful low chatter- 
ings; probably dropped and forgot it in the excite- 
ment of something new before he had even looked 
to see what it was. 

"These people," said Darwin to himself, "on the 
whole, and as an average, seem to give me appropri- 
ate and pleasing gifts. To be sure, it is always well 
to see that they don't try to bunco me with olive 
stones or such worthless trash, but still I believe they 
are worth cultivating and standing in with." 

"It strikes me," observed Funny Face to him- 
self, "that my adorable Memsahib and my beloved 

330 



THE HIPPO POOL 

bwana have been very kind to me to-day, though I 
don't remember precisely how. But I certainly do 
love theml" 

We cut good sized holes on each of the four sides 
of their chop box to afford them ventilation on the 
march. The box was always carried on one of the 
safari boy's heads: and Funny Face and Darwin 
gazed forth with great interest. It was very amus- 
ing to see — the big negro striding jauntily along 
under his light burden; the large brown winking 
eyes glued to two of the apertures. When we ar- 
rived in camp and threw the box cover open, they 
hopped forth, shook themselves, examined their 
immediate surroundings and proceeded to take a 
little exercise. When anything alarmed them, such 
as the shadow of a passing hawk, they skittered 
madly up the nearest thing in sight — tent pole, tree, 
or human form; and scolded indignantly or chittered 
in a low tone according to the degree of their terror. 
When Funny Face was very young, indeed, the 
grass near camp caught fire. After the excitement 
was over we found him completely buried in the 
straw of his box, crouched, and whimpering like 
a child. As he could hardly, at his tender age, have 
had any previous experience with fire, this instinctive 
fear was to me very interesting. 

The monkeys had only one genuine enemy. That 

331 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

was an innocent plush lion named Little Simba. It 
had been given us in joke before we left California, 
we had tucked it into an odd corner of our trunk, 
had discovered it there, carried it on safari out of 
sheer idleness, and lo! it had become an Important 
member of the expedition. Every morning Maho- 
met or Yusuf packed it — or rather him — carefully 
away in the tin box. Promptly at the end of the 
day's march Little Simba was haled forth and set in 
a place of honour in the centre of the table, and 
reigned there — or sometimes in a little grass jungle 
constructed by his faithful servitors — until the 
march was again resumed. His job in life was to 
look after our hunting luck. When he failed to get 
us what we wanted, he was punished: when he pro- 
cured us what we desired he was rewarded by having 
his tail sewed on afresh, or by being presented with 
new black thread whiskers, or even a tiny blanket of 
'Mericani against the cold. This last was an especial 
favour for finally getting us the greater kudu. 
Naturally as we did all this in the spirit of an idle 
joke our rewards and punishments were rather des- 
ultory. To our surprise, however, we soon found 
that our boys took Little Simba quite serious- 
ly. He was a fetish, a little god, a power of good 
or bad luck. We did not appreciate this point 
until one evening, after a rather disappointing 

332 




Ihe dik-dik— smallest of antelope. 





Typical African ant hills. 



THE HIPPO POOL 

day, Mahomet came to us bearing Little Simba in 
his hand. 

"Bwana," said he respectfully, "is it enough that 
I shut Simba in the tin box, or do you wish to flog 
him?" 

On one very disgraceful occasion, when every- 
thing went wrong, we plucked Little Simba from his 
high throne and with him made a beautiful drop- 
kick out into the tall grass. There, in a loud tone of 
voice, we sternly bade him lie until the morrow. The 
camp was bung-eyed. It is not given to every 
people to treat its gods in such fashion: indeed, in 
very deed, great is the white man ! To be fair, having 
published Little Simba's disgrace, we should pub- 
lish also Little Simba's triumph: to tell how, at the 
end of a certain very lucky three months' safari he 
was perched atop a pole and carried into town tri- 
umphantly at the head of a howling, singing pro- 
cession of a hundred men. He returned to America, 
and now, having retired from active professional life, 
is leading an honoured old age among the trophies 
he helped to procure. 

Funny Face first met Little Simba when on an 
early investigating tour. With considerable dif- 
ficulty he had shinned up the table leg, and had 
hoisted himself over the awkwardly projecting table 
edge. When almost within reach of the fascinating 

333 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

affairs displayed atop, he looked straight up into the 
face of Little SImba! Funny Face shrieked aloud, 
let go all holds and fell off flat on his back. Re- 
covering Immediately, he climbed just as high as he 
could, and proceeded, during the next hour, to re- 
lieve his feelings by the most Insulting chatterlngs 
and grimaces. He never recovered from this initial 
experience. All that was necessary to evoke all 
sorts of monkey talk was to produce Little Simba. 
Against his benign plush front then broke a storm of 
remonstrance. He became the object of slow ad- 
vances and sudden scurrying, shrieking retreats, 
that lasted just as long as he stayed there, and never 
got any farther than a certain quite conservative 
point. Little Simba did not mind. He was too 
busy being a god. 



334 



XXIV 
THE BUFFALO 

THE Cape Buffalo is one of the four dangerous 
kinds of African big game; of which the other 
three are the lion, the rhinoceros, and the elephant. 
These latter are familiar to us in zoological gardens, 
although the African — and larger — form of the 
rhinoceros and elephant are seldom or never seen 
in captivity. But buffaloes are as yet unrepresented 
in our living collections. They are huge beasts, tre- 
mendous from any point of view, whether considered 
in height, in mass, or in power. At the shoulder 
they stand from just under five feet to just under 
six feet in height; they are short legged, heavy bodied 
bull necked, thick in every dimension. In colour 
they are black as to hair, and slate gray as to skin; 
so that the individual impression depends on the 
thickness of the coat. They wear their horns parted 
in the middle, sweeping smoothly away in the curves 
of two great bosses either side the head. A good 
trophy will measure in spread from forty inches to 
four feet. Four men will be required to carry in the 

335 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

head alone. As buflFaloes when disturbed or sus- 
picious have a habit of thrusting their noses up and 
forward, that position will cling to one's memory as 
the most typical of the species. 

A great many hunters rank the buffalo first among 
the dangerous beasts. This is not my own opinion, 
but he is certainly dangerous enough. He possesses 
the size, power, and truculence of the rhinoceros, 
together with all that animal's keenness of scent and 
hearing but with a sharpness of vision the rhinoceros 
has not. While not as clever as either the lion or 
the elephant, he is tricky enough when angered to 
circle back for the purpose of attacking his pursuers 
in the rear or flank, and to arrange rather ingenious 
ambushes for the same purpose. He is rather more 
tenacious of life than the rhinoceros, and will carry 
away an extraordinary quantity of big bullets. Add 
to these considerations the facts that buffaloes go in 
herds; and that, barring luck, chances are about 
even they will have to be followed into the thickest 
cover, it can readily be seen that their pursuit is 
exciting. 

The problem would be simplified were one able 
or willing to slip into the thicket or up to the grazing 
herd and kill the nearest beast that offers. As a 
matter of fact an ordinary herd will contain only 
two or three bulls worth shooting; and it is the hun- 

336 



THE BUFFALO 

ter's delicate task to glide and crawl here and there, 
with due regard for sight, scent and sound, until he 
has picked one of these from the scores of undesir- 
ables. Many times will he worm his way by Inches 
toward the great black bodies half defined In the 
screen of thick undergrowth only to find that he 
has stalked cows or small bulls. Then Inch by Inch 
he must back out again, unable to see twenty yards 
to either side, guiding himself by the probabilities 
of the faint chance breezes In the thicket. To right 
and left he hears the quiet continued crop^ crop, crop, 
sound of animals grazing. The sweat runs down his 
face In streams, and blinds his eyes, but only occa- 
sionally and with the utmost caution can he raise his 
hand — or, better, lower his head — to clear his 
vision. When at last he has withdrawn from the 
danger zone, he wipes his face, takes a drink from the 
canteen, and tries again. Sooner or later his pres- 
ence comes to the notice of some old cow. Be- 
hind the leafy screen where unsuspected she has 
been standing comes the most unexpected and heart- 
jumping crash! Instantly the jungle all about roars 
into life. The great bodies of the alarmed beasts 
hurl themselves through the thicket, smash! bang! 
crash! smash! as though a tornado were uprooting the 
forest. Then abruptly a complete silence! This 
lasts but ten seconds or so; then off rushes the wild 

337 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

stampede In another direction; only again to come to 
a listening halt of breathless stillness. So the hunter, 
unable to see anything, and feeling very small, 
huddles with his gunbearers in a compact group, 
listening to the wild surging short rushes, now this 
way, now that, hoping that the stampede may not 
run over him. If by chance it does, he has his two 
shots and the possibility of hugging a tree while the 
rush divides around him. The latter Is the most 
likely; a single bufifalo Is hard enough to stop with 
two shots, let alone a herd. And yet, sometimes, the 
mere flash and noise will suffice to turn them, pro- 
vided they are not actually trying to attack, but 
only rushing indefinitely about. Probably a man 
can experience few more thrilling moments than he 
will enjoy standing in one of the small leafy rooms of 
an African jungle while several hundred tons of 
buffalo crash back and forth all around him. 

In the best of circumstances it is only rarely that, 
having Identified his big bull, the hunter can deliver 
a knockdown blow. The beast Is extraordinarily 
vital, and In addition It Is exceedingly difficult to get 
a fair, open shot. Then from the danger of being 
trampled down by the blind and senseless stampede 
of the herd he passes to the more defined peril from 
an angered and cunning single animal. The major- 
ity of fatalities in hunting buffaloes happen while 

338 



THE BUFFALO 

following wounded beasts. A flank charge at close 
range may catch the most experienced man; and 
even when clearly seen, it is difficult to stop. The 
buffalo's wide bosses are a helmet to his brain, and 
the body shot is always chancy. The beast tosses 
his victim, or tramples him, or pushes him against 
a tree to crush him like a fly. 

He who would get his trophy, however, is not 
always — perhaps is not generally — forced into 
the thicket to get it. When not much disturbed, 
buffaloes are in the habit of grazing out into the open 
just before dark; and of returning to their thicket 
cover only well after sunrise. If the hunter can ar- 
range to meet his herd at such a time, he stands a 
very good chance of getting a clear shot. The job 
then requires merely ordinary caution and ma- 
noeuvring; and the only danger, outside the ever- 
present one from the wounded beast, is that the 
herd may charge over him deliberately. Therefore 
it is well to keep out of sight. 

The difficulty generally is to locate your beasts. 
They wander all night, and must be blundered upon 
in the early morning before they have drifted back 
into the thickets. Sometimes, by sending skilled 
trackers in several directions, they can be traced to 
where they have entered cover. A messenger then 
brings the white man to the place, and every one 

339 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

tries to guess at what spot the buffaloes are likely to 
emerge for their evening stroll. It is remarkably 
easy to make a wrong guess; and the remaining 
daylight is rarely sufficient to repair a mistake. And 
also, in the case of a herd ranging a wide country 
with much tall grass and several drinking holes, it 
is rather difficult, without very good luck, to locate 
them on any given night or morning, A few herds, 
a very few, may have fixed habits, and so prove 
easy hunting. 

These difficulties, while in no way formidable, are 
real enough in their small way; but they are im- 
mensely increased when the herds have been often 
disturbed. Disturbance need not necessarily mean 
shooting. In countries unvisited by white men often 
the pastoral natives will so annoy the buffalo by 
shoutings and other means, whenever they appear 
near the tame cattle, that the huge beasts will be- 
come practically nocturnal. In that case only the 
rankest luck will avail to get a man a chance in the 
open. The herds cling to cover until after sundown 
and just at dusk; and they return again very soon 
after the first streaks of dawn. If the hunter just 
hap-pens to be at the exact spot, he may get a twi- 
light shot when the glimmering ivory of his front 
sight is barely visible. Otherwise he must go into 
the thicket. 

340 



THE BUFFALO 

As an illustration of the first condition might be 
instanced an afternoon on the Tana. The weather 
was very hot. We had sent three lots of men out 
in different directions, each under the leadership of 
one of the gunbearers, to scout, while we took it easy 
in the shade of our banda, or grass shelter, on the 
bank of the river. About one o'clock a messenger 
came into camp reporting that the men under Mav- 
rouki had traced a herd to its lying-down place. 
We took our heavy guns and started. 

The way led through thin scrub up the long slope 
of a hill that broke on the other side into undulating 
grass ridges that ended in a range of hills. These 
were about four or five miles distant, and thinly 
wooded on sides and lower slopes with what resem- 
bled a small live-oak growth. Among these trees, 
our guide told us, the buffalo had first been sighted. 

The sun was very hot, and all the animals were 
still. We saw impalla in the scrub, and many gi- 
raffes and bucks on the plains. After an hour and a 
half's walk we entered the parklike groves at the 
foot of the hills, and our guide began to proceed 
more cautiously. He moved forward a few feet, 
peered about, retraced his steps. Suddenly his 
face broke into a broad grin. Following his indi- 
cation we looked up, and there in a tree almost above 
us roosted one of our boys sound asleep! We 

341 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

whistled at him. Thereupon he awoke, tried to 
look very alert, and pointed in the direction we 
should go. After an interval we picked up another 
sentinel, and another, and another until, passed 
on thus from one to the next, we traced the move- 
ments of the herd. Finally we came upon Mav- 
rouki and Simba under a bush. From them, in 
whispers, we learned that the buffalo were karibu 
Sana — very near; that they had fed this far, and 
were now lying In the long grass just ahead. Leav- 
ing the men, we now continued our forward move- 
ment on hands and knees, in single file. It was very 
hot work, for the sun beat square down on us, and 
the tall grass kept off every breath of air. Every 
few moments we rested, lying on our faces. Oc- 
casionally, when the grass shortened, or the slant 
of ground tended to expose us, we lay quite flat and 
hitched forward an inch at a time by the strength 
of our toes. This was very severe work Indeed, and 
we were drenched in perspiration. In fact, as I had 
been feeling quite ill all day. It became rather doubt- 
ful whether I could stand the pace. 

However after a while we managed to drop down 
Into an eroded deep little ravine. Here the air was 
like that of a furnace, but at least we could walk up- 
right for a few rods. This we did, with the most ex- 
traordinary precautions against even the breaking 

342 



THE BUFFALO 

of a twig or the rolling of a pebble. Then we clam- 
bered to the top of the bank, wormed our way for- 
ward another fifty feet to the shelter of a tiny bush, 
and stretched out to recuperate. We lay there some 
time, sheltered from the sun. Then ahead of us 
suddenly rumbled a deep bellow. We were fairly 
upon the herd! 

Cautiously F. who was nearest the centre of the 
bush, raised himself alongside the stem to look. He 
could see where the beasts were lying, not fifty yards 
away, but he could make out nothing but the fact 
of great black bodies taking their ease in the grass 
under the shade of trees. So much he reported to 
us; then rose again to keep watch. 

Thus we waited the rest of the afternoon. The 
sun dipped at last toward the west, a faint irregular 
breeze wandered down from the hills, certain birds 
awoke and uttered their clear calls, an unsuspected 
kongoni stepped from the shade of a tree over the 
way and began to crop the grass, the shadows were 
lengthening through the trees. Then ahead of us an 
uneasiness ran through the herd. We in the grass 
could hear the mutterings and grumblings of many 
great animals. Suddenly F. snapped his fingers, 
stooped low and darted forward. We scrambled to 
our feet and followed. 

Across a short open space we ran, bent double, to 

343 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the shelter of a big ant hill. Peering over the top of 
this we found ourselves within sixty yards of a long 
compact column of the great black beasts, moving 
forward orderly to the left, the points of the cow's 
horns, curved up and in, tossing slowly as the ani- 
mals walked. On the ilank of the herd was a big 
gray bull. 

It had been agreed that B. was to have the shot. 
Therefore he opened fire with his 405 Winchester, 
a weapon altogether too light for this sort of work. 
At the shot the herd dashed forward to an open grass 
meadow a few rods away, wheeled and faced back 
in a compact mass, their noses thrust up and out in 
their typical fashion, tr}dng with all their senses to 
locate the cause of the disturbance. 

Taking advantage both of the scattered cover, 
and the half light of the shadows we slipped forward 
as rapidly and as unobtrusively as we could to the 
edge of the grass meadow. Here we came to a stand 
eighty yards from the buffaloes. They stood com- 
pactly like a herd of cattle, staring, tossing their 
heads, moving slightly, their wild eyes searching for 
us. I saw several good bulls, but alv/ays they moved 
where it was impossible to shoot without danger of 
getting the wrong beast. Finally my chance came; 
I planted a pair of Holland bullets in the shoulder of 
one of them. 

344 



THE BUFFALO 

The herd broke away to the right, sweeping past 
us at close range. My bull ran thirty yards with 
them, then went down stone dead. When we ex- 
amined him we found the hole made by B.'s Win- 
chester bullet; so that quite unintentionally and by 
accident I had fired at the same beast. This was 
lucky. The trophy, by hunter's law, of course, be- 
longed to B. 

Therefore F. and I alone followed on after the 
herd. It was now coming on dusk. Within a hun- 
dred yards we began to see scattered beasts. The 
foi-mation of the herd had broken. Some had gone 
on in flight, while others in small scattered groups 
would stop to stare back, and would then move 
slowly on for a few paces before stopping again. 
Among these I made out a bull facing us about a 
hundred and twenty-five yards away, and managed 
to stagger him, but could not bring him down. 

Now occurred an incident which I should hesitate to 
relate were it not that both F. and myself saw it. We 
have since talked it over, compared our recollections, 
and found them to coincide in every particular. 

As we moved cautiously in pursuit of the slowly 
retreating herd three cows broke back and came run- 
ning down past us. We ducked aside and hid, of 
course, but noticed that of the three two were very 
young, while one was so old that she had become 

345 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

fairly emaciated, a very unusual thing with buffaloes. 
We then followed the herd for twenty minutes, or 
until twilight, when we turned back. About half- 
way down the slope we again met the three cows, 
returning. They passed us within twenty yards, 
but paid us no attention whatever. The old cow 
was coming along very reluctantly, hanging back at 
every step, and every once in a while swinging her 
head viciously at one or the other of her two com- 
panions. These escorted her on either side, and a 
little to the rear. They were plainly urging her 
forward, and did not hesitate to dig her in the ribs 
with their horns whenever she turned especially ob- 
stinate. In fact they acted exactly like a pair of cow- 
boys herding a recalcitrant animal back to its band : 
and I have no doubt at all that when they first dashed 
by us the old lady was making a break for liberty in 
the wrong direction, and that the two younger cows 
were trying to round her back! Whether they were 
her daughters or not is problematical; but it cer- 
tainly seemed that they were taking care of her and 
trying to prevent her running back where it was 
dangerous to go. I never heard of a similar case, 
though Herbert Ward* mentions, without particulars 
that elephants and buffaloes will assist each other 
zvhen wounded. 



"A Voice from the Congo. 



THE BUFFALO 

After passing these we returned to where B. and 
the men, who had now come up, had prepared the 
dead bull for transportation. We started at once, 
travelling by the stars, shouting and singing to dis- 
courage the lions, but did not reach camp until well 
into the night. 



347 



XXV 

THE BVFFALO— continued 

SOME months later, and many hundreds of miles 
farther south, Billy and I found ourselves alone 
with twenty men, and two weeks to pass until C. — 
our companion at the time — should return from a 
long journey out with a wounded man. By slow 
stages, and relaying back and forth, we landed in a 
valley so beautiful in every way that we resolved to 
stay as long as possible. This could be but five 
days at most. At the end of that time we must start 
for our prearranged rendezvous with C. 

The valley was in the shape of an ellipse, two sides 
of which were formed by great clifflike mountains, 
and the other two by hills lower, but still of con- 
siderable boldness and size. The longest radius was 
perhaps six or eight miles, and the shortest three or 
four. At one end a canon dropped away to a lower 
level, and at the other a pass in the hills gave over 
to the country of the Narossara River. The name 
of the valley was Lengeetoto. 

From the great mountains flowed many brooks 
348 



THE BUFFALO 

of clear sparkling water, that ran beneath the most 
beautiful of open jungles, to unite finally in one main 
stream that disappeared down the canon. Between 
these brooks were low broad rolling hills, sometimes 
grass covered, sometimes grown thinly with bushes. 
Where they headed in the mountains, long stringers 
of forest trees ran up to blocklike groves, apparently 
pasted like wafers against the base of the cliffs, but 
in reality occupying spacious slopes below them. 

We decided to camp at the foot of a long grass slant 
within a hundred yards of the trees along one of the 
small streams. Before us we had the sweep of 
brown grass rising to a clear cut skyline; and all 
about us the distant great hills behind which the 
day dawned and fell. One afternoon a herd of 
giraffes stood silhouetted on this skyline quite a half 
hour gazing curiously down on our camp. Harte- 
beeste and zebra swarmed in the grassy openings; 
and impalla in the brush. We saw sing-sing and 
steinbuck, and other animals, and heard lions nearly 
every night. But principally we elected to stay 
because a herd of buffaloes ranged the foothills and 
dwelt in the groves of forest trees under the cliffs. 
We wanted a buffalo; and as Lengeetoto is prac- 
tically unknown to white men, we thought this a 
good chance to get one. In that I reckoned without 
the fact that at certain seasons the Masai bring 

549 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

their cattle in, and at such times annoy the buffalo 
all they can. 

We started out well enough'. I sent Memba Sasa 
with two men to locate the herd. About three 
o'clock a messenger came to camp after me. We 
plunged through our own jungle, crossed a low swell, 
traversed another jungle, and got in touch with the 
other two men. They reported the buffalo had 
entered the thicket a few hundred yards below us. 
Cautiously reconnoitring the ground it soon became 
evident that we would be forced more definitely to 
locate the herd. To be sure, they had entered the 
stream jungle at a known point, but there could be 
no telling how far they might continue in the thicket, 
nor on what side of it they would emerge at sundown. 
Therefore we commenced cautiously and slowly to 
follow the trail. 

The going was very thick, naturally, and we could 
not see very far ahead. Our object was not now to 
try for a bull, but merely to find where the herd was 
feeding, in order that we might wait for it to come 
out. However, we were brought to a stand, in the 
middle of a jungle of green leaves, by the cropping 
sound of a beast grazing just the other side of a 
bush. We could not see it, and we stood stock still 
in the hope of escaping discovery ourselves. But an 
instant later a sudden crash of wood told us we had 

350 



THE BUFFALO 

been seen. It was near work. The gunbearers 
crouched close to me. I held the heavy double gun 
ready. If the beast had elected to charge I would 
have had less than ten yards within which to stop 
it. Fortunately it did not do so. But instantly 
the herd was afoot and off at full speed. A loco- 
motive amuck in a kindling pile could have made no 
more appalling a succession of rending crashes than 
did those heavy animals rushing here and there 
through the thick woody growth. We could see 
nothing. Twice the rush started in our direction, 
but stopped as suddenly as it had begun, to be suc- 
ceeded by absolute stillness when everything, our- 
selves included, held its breath to listen. Finally, 
the first panic over, the herd started definitely away 
downstream. We ran as fast as we could out of the 
jungle to a commanding position on the hill. Thence 
we could determine the course of the herd. It con- 
tinued on downstream as far as we could follow the 
sounds in the convolutions of the hills. Realizing 
that it would improbably recover enough from its 
alarmed condition to resume its regular habits that 
day, we returned to camp. 

Next morning Memba Sasa and I were afield before 
daylight. We took no other men. In hunting I 
am a strong disbeliever in the common habit of 
trailing along a small army. It is simple enough, in 

351 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

case the kill Is made, to send back for help. No 
matter how skilful your men are at stalking, the 
chances of alarming the game are greatly increased 
by numbers; while the possibilities of misunder- 
standing the plan of campaign, and so getting Into 
the wrong place at the wrong time, are infinite. 
Alone, or with one gunbearer, a man can slip in and 
out a herd of formidable animals with the least 
chances of danger. Merely going out after camp 
meat is of course a different matter. 

We did not follow In the direction taken by the 
herd the night before, but struck off toward the 
opposite side of the valley. For two hours we 
searched the wooded country at the base of the cliff 
mountains, working slowly around the circle, examin- 
ing every Inlet, ravine and gully. Plenty of other 
sorts of game we saw, including elephant tracks not 
a half hour old; but no buffalo. About eight o'clock, 
however, while looking through my glasses, I caught 
sight of some tiny chunky black dots crawling along 
below the mountains diagonally across the valley, 
and somewhat over three miles away. We started 
in that direction as fast as we could walk. At the 
end of an hour we surmounted the last swell, and 
stood at the edge of a steep drop. Immediately 
below us flowed a good-sized stream through a high 
jungle over the tops of which we looked to a trl- 

352 




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The big buffalo as he finally fell. 







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The head of the big buffalo that nearly got Billy. 



THE BUFFALO 

angular gentle slope overgrown with scattered bushes 
and high grass. Beyond this again ran another 
jungle, angling up hill from the first, to end in a 
forest of trees about thirty or forty acres in extent. 
This jungle and these trees were backed up against 
the slope of the mountain. The buffaloes we had first 
seen above the grove: they must now have sought 
cover among either the trees or the lower jungle: 
and it seemed reasonable that the beasts would 
emerge on the grass and bush area late in the after- 
noon. Therefore Memba Sasa and I selected good 
comfortable sheltered spots, leaned our backs against 
rocks, and resigned ourselves to long patience. It 
was now about nine o'clock in the morning, and we 
could not expect our game to come out before half 
past three at earliest. We could not, however, go 
away to come back later because of the chance that 
the buffaloes might take it into their heads to go trav-.- 
elling. I had been fooled that way before. For this 
reason, also, it was necessary, every five minutes or 
so, to examine carefully all our boundaries; lest the 
beasts might be slipping away through the cover. 
The hours passed very slowly. We made lunch 
last as long as possible. I had in my pocket a small 
edition of Hawthorne's "The House of the Seven 
Gables," which I read, pausing every few minutes 
to raise my glasses for the periodical examination of 

353 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the country. The mental focussing back from the 
pale gray half light of Hawthorne's New England 
to the actuality of wild Africa was a most extra- 
ordinary experience. 

Through the heat of the day the world lay ab- 
solutely silent. At about half-past three, however, 
we heard rumblings and low bellows from the trees 
a half mile away. I repocketed Hawthorne, and 
aroused myself to continuous alertness. 

The ensuing two hours passed more slowly than 
all the rest of the day, for we were constantly on the 
lookout. The buffaloes delayed most singularly, 
seemingly reluctant to leave their deep cover. The 
sun dropped behind the mountains: and their shadow 
commenced to climb the opposite range. I glanced 
at my watch. We had not more than a half hour of 
daylight left. 

Fifteen minutes of this passed. It began to look 
as though our long and monotonous wait had been 
quite in vain; when, right below us, and perhaps five 
hundred yards away, four great black bodies fed 
leisurely from the bushes. Three of them we could 
see plainly. Two were bulls of fair size. The 
fourth, half concealed in the brush, was by far the 
biggest of the lot. 

In order to reach them we would have to slip 
down the face of the hill on which we sat, cross the 

354 



THE BUFFALO 

stream jungle at the bottom, climb out the other 
side, and make our stalk to within range. With a 
half hour more of daylight this would have been 
comparatively easy; but in such circumstances it is 
difficult to move at the same time rapidly and unseen. 
However, we decided to make the attempt. To that 
end we disencumbered ourselves of all our extras — 
lunch box, book, kodak, glasses, etc. — and wormed 
our way as rapidly as possible toward the bottom of 
the hill. We utilized the cover as much as we were 
able, but nevertheless breathed a sigh of relief when 
we had dropped below the line of the jungle. We 
wasted very little time crossing the latter, save for 
precautions against noise. Even in my haste, how- 
ever, I had opportunity to notice its high and au- 
stere character, with the arching overhead vines, and 
the clear freedom from undergrowth In its heart. 
Across this cleared space we ran at full speed, crouch- 
ing below the grasp of the vines, splashed across the 
brook, and dashed up the other bank. Only a faint 
glimmer of light lingered In the jungle. At the upper 
edge we paused, collected ourselves, and pushed 
cautiously through the thick border-screen of bush. 
The twilight was just fading Into dusk. Of course 
we had taken our bearings from the other hill: so 
now, after reassuring ourselves of them, we began to 
wriggle our way at a great pace through the high 

3SS 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

grass. Our calculations were quite accurate. We 
stalked successfully, and at last, drenched in sweat, 
found ourselves lying flat within ten yards of a small 
bush behind which we could make out dimly the 
black mass of the largest beast we had seen from 
across the way. 

Although It was now practically dark, we had the 
game in our own hands. From our low position the 
animal, once It fed forward from behind the single 
small bush, would be plainly outlined against the 
sky, and at ten yards I should be able to place my 
heavy bullets properly, even in the dark. There- 
fore, quite easy in our minds, we lay flat and rested. 
At the end of twenty seconds the animal began to 
step forward. I levelled my double gun, ready to 
press trigger the moment the shoulder appeared in 
the clear. Then against the saffron sky emerged 
the ugly outline and two upstanding horns of a rhi- 
noceros ! 

"i^^rw/" I whispered disgustedly to Memba Sasa. 
With infinite pains we backed out, then retreated to 
a safe distance. It was of course now too late to 
hunt up the three genuine buffaloes of this ill- 
assorted group. 

In fact our main necessity was to get through the 
river jungle before the afterglow had faded from the 
sky, leaving us In pitch darkness. I sent Memba 

35^ 



THE BUFFAI.0 

Sasa across to pick up the effects we had left on the 
opposite ridge, while I myself struck directly across 
the flat toward camp. 

I had plunged ahead thus, for two or three hun- 
dred yards, when I was brought up short by the 
violent snort of a rhinoceros just off" the starboard 
bow. He was very close, but I was unable to locate 
him in the dusk. A cautious retreat and change of 
course cleared me from him, and I was about to start 
on again full speed when once more I was halted by 
another rhinoceros, this time dead ahead. Attempt- 
ing to back away from him, I aroused another in my 
rear; and as though this were not enough a fourth 
opened up to the left. 

It was absolutely impossible to see anything ten 
yards away unless it happened to be silhouetted 
against the sky. I backed cautiously toward a little 
bush, with a vague Idea of having something to dodge 
around. As the old hunter said when, unarmed, he 
met the bear, "Anything, even a newspaper, would 
have come handy." To my great joy I backed against 
a conical ant hill four or five feet high. This I 
ascended and began anti-rhino demonstrations. I 
had no time to fool with rhinos, anyway. I wanted 
to get through that jungle before the leopards left 
their family circles. So I hurled clods of earth and 
opprobrious shouts and epithets in the four directions 

357 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

of my four obstreperous friends, and I thought I 
counted four reluctant departures. Then, with 
considerable doubt, I descended from my ant hill 
and hurried down the slope, stumbling over grass 
hummocks, colliding with bushes, tangling with 
vines — but progressing in a gratifyingly rhinoless 
condition. Five minutes cautious but rapid feeling 
my way brought me through the jungle. Shortly 
after I raised the campfires; and so got home. 

The next two days were repetitions, with slight 
variation, of this experience, minus the rhinos! 
Starting from camp before daylight we were only 
in time to see the herd — always aggravatingly on 
the other side of the cover, no matter which side we 
selected for our approach, slowly grazing into the 
dense jungle. And always they emerged so late 
and so far away that our very best efforts failed to 
get us near them before dark. The margin was 
always so narrow, however, that our hopes were kept 
alive. 

On the fourth day, which must be our last in 
Longeetoto, we found that the herd had shifted to 
fresh cover three miles along the base of the moun- 
tains. We had no faith in those buffaloes, but about 
half-past three we sallied forth dutifully and took 
position on a hill overlooking the new hiding place. 
This consisted of a wide grove of forest trees varied 

358 



THE BUFFALO 

by occasional open glades and many dense thickets. 
So eager were we to win what had by now developed 
into a contest that I refused to shoot a lioness with 
a three-quarters-grown cub that appeared within easy 
shot from some reeds below us. 

Time passed as usual until nearly sunset. Then 
through an opening into one of the small glades we 
caught sight of the herd travelling slowly but steadily 
from right to left. The glimpse was only momentary, 
but it was sufficient to indicate the direction from 
which we might expect them to emerge. Therefore 
we ran at top speed down from our own hill, tore 
through the jungle at its foot, and hastily, but with 
more caution, mounted the opposite slope through 
the scattered groves and high grass. We could hear 
occasionally indications of the buffaloes' slow ad- 
vance, and we wanted to gain a good ambuscade 
above them before they emerged. We found it in 
the shape of a small conical hillock perched on the 
side hill itself, and covered with long grass. It 
commanded open vistas through the scattered trees 
in all directions. And the thicket itself ended not 
fifty yards away. No buffalo could possibly come 
out without our seeing him; and we had a good half 
hour of clear daylight before us. It really seemed 
that luck had changed at last. 

We settled ourselves, unlimbered for action, and got 

359 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

our breath. The buffaloes came nearer and nearer. 
At length, through a tiny opening a hundred yards 
away, we could catch momentary glimpses of their 
great black bodies. I thrust forward the safety 
catch and waited. Finally a half dozen of the huge 
beasts were feeding not six feet inside the circle of 
brush, and only thirty-odd yards from where we lay. 

And they came no farther! I never passed a more 
heart-breaking half hour of suspense than that in 
which little by little the daylight and our hopes 
faded, while those confounded buffaloes moved slowly 
out to the very edge of the thicket, turned, and 
moved as slowly back again. At times they came 
actually into view. We could see their sleek black 
bodies rolling lazily into sight and back again, like 
seals on the surface of water, but never could we 
make out more than that. I could have had a dozen 
good shots, but I could not even guess what I would 
be shooting at. And the daylight drained away and 
the minutes ticked by! 

Finally, as I could see no end to this performance 
save that to which we had been so sickeningly ac- 
customed in the last four days, I motioned to 
Memba Sasa, and together we glided like shadows 
into the thicket. 

There it was already dusk. We sneaked breath- 
lessly through the small openings, desperately in a 

36a 



THE BUFFALO 

hurry, almost painfully on the alert. In the dark 
shadow sixty yards ahead stood a half dozen mon- 
strous bodies all facing our way. They suspected 
the presence of something unusual, but in the dark- 
ness and the stillness they could neither identify it 
nor locate it exactly. I dropped on one knee and 
snatched my prism glasses to my eyes. The mag- 
nification enabled me to see partially into the shad- 
ows. Every one of the group carried the sharply 
inturned points to the horns: they were all cows! 

An instant after I had made out this fact, they 
stampeded across our face. The whole band thun- 
dered and crashed away. 

Desperately we sprang after them, our guns atrail, 
our bodies stooped low to keep down in the shadow 
of the earth. And suddenly, without the slightest 
warning we plumped around a bush square on top of 
the entire herd. It had stopped and was staring 
back in our direction. I could see nothing but the 
wild toss of a hundred pair of horns silhouetted 
against such of the irregular saffron afterglow as had 
not been blocked off by the twigs and branches of 
the thicket. All below was indistinguishable black- 
ness. 

They stood in a long compact semicircular line 
thirty yards away, quite still, evidently staring 
intently into the dusk to find out what had alarmed 

361 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

them. At any moment they were likely to make 
another rush; and if they did so in the direction 
they were facing, they would most certainly run 
over us and trample us down. 

Remembering the dusk I thought it likely that 
the unexpected vivid flash of the gun might turn 
them off before they got started. Therefore I raised 
the big double Holland, aimed below the line of 
heads, and was just about to pull trigger when my 
eye caught the silhouette of a pair of horns whose 
tips spread out instead of turning in. This was a 
bull, and I immediately shifted the gun in his direc- 
tion. At the heavy double report, the herd broke 
wildly to right and left and thundered away. I con- 
fess I was quite relieved. 

A low moaning bellow told us that our bull was 
down. The last few days' experience at being out 
late had taught us wisdom so Memba Sasa had 
brought a lantern. By the light of this, we dis- 
covered our bull down, and all but dead. To make 
sure, I put a Winchester bullet into his backbone. 

We felt ourselves legitimately open to congratu- 
lations, for we had killed this bull from a practically 
nocturnal herd, in the face of considerable danger 
and more than considerable difhculty. Therefore 
we shook hands and made appropriate remarks to 
each other, lacking anybody to make them for us. 

362 



THE BUFFALO 

By now it was pitch dark in the thicket, and just 
about so outside. We had to do a little planning. 
I took the Holland gun, gave Memba Sasa the Win- 
chester, and started him for camp after help. As 
he carried off the lantern, it was now up to me to 
make a fire and to make it quickly. 

For the past hour a line drizzle had been falling; 
and the whole country was wet from previous rains. 
I hastily dragged in all the dead wood I could find 
near, collected what ought to be good kindling, and 
started in to light a fire. Now, although I am no 
Boy Scout, I have lit several fires in my time. But 
never when I was at the same time in such a des- 
perate need and hurry; and in possession of such poor 
materials. The harder I worked, the worse things 
sputtered and smouldered. Probably the relief from 
the long tension of the buffalo hunt had something 
to do with my general piffling inefficiency. If I had 
taken time to do a proper job once Instead of a half- 
way job a dozen times, as I should have done and 
usually would have done, I would have had a fire 
in no time. I Imagine I was somewhat scared. The 
lioness and her hulking cub had smelled the buffalo 
and were prowling around. I could hear them 
purring and uttering their hollow grunts. However, 
at last the flame held. I fed It sparingly, lit a pipe, 
placed the Holland gun next my hand, and resigned 

363 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

myself to waiting. For two hours this was not so 
bad. I smoked, and rested up, and dried out before 
my little fire. Then my fuel began to run low. I 
arose and tore down all the remaining dead limbs 
within the circle of my firelight. These were not 
many, so I stepped out into the darkness for more. 
Immediately I was warned back by a deep growl! 

The next hour was not one of such solid comfort. 
I began to get parsimonious about my supply of 
firewood, trying to use it in such a manner as to keep 
up an adequate blaze, and at the same time to make 
it last until Memba Sasa should return with the 
men. I did it, though I got down to charred ends 
before I was through. The old lioness hung around 
within a hundred yards or so below, and the buffalo 
herd, returning, filed by above, pausing to stamp and 
snort at the fire. Finally, about nine o'clock, I made 
out two lanterns bobbing up to me through the trees. 

The last incident to be selected from many ex- 
periences with buffaloes took place in quite an un- 
visited district over the mountains from the Loieta 
Plains. For nearly two months we had ranged far 
in this lovely upland country of groves and valleys 
and wide grass bottoms between hills, hunting for 
greater kudu. One day we all set out from camp 
to sweep the base of a range of low mountains 
ia search of a good specimen of Newman's harte- 

364 



THE BUFFALO 

beeste, or anything else especially desirable that 
might happen along. The gentle slope from the 
mountains was of grass cut by numerous small 
ravines grown with low brush. This brush was so 
scanty as to afford but indifferent cover for any- 
thing larger than one of the small grass antelopes. 
All the ravines led down a mile or so to a deeper main 
watercourse paralleling the mountains. Some water 
stood in the pools here; and the cover was a little 
more dense, but consisted at best of but a "stringer" 
no wider than a city street. Flanking the stringer 
were scattered high bushes for a few yards; and then 
the open country. Altogether as unlikely a place 
for the shade-loving buffalo as could be imagined. 

We collected our Newmanii after rather a long 
hunt; and just at noon, when the heat of the day 
began to come on, we wandered down to the water 
for lunch. Here we found a good clear pool and 
drank. The boys began to make themselves com- 
fortable by the water's edge; C. went to superintend 
the disposal of Billy's mule. Billy had sat down be- 
neath the shade of the most hospitable of the 
bushes a hundred feet or so away, and was taking off 
her veil and gloves. I was carrying to her the lunch 
box. When I was about halfway from where the 
boys were drinking at the stream's edge to where 
she sat, a buffalo bull thrust his head from the bushes 

365 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

just the other side of her. His head was thrust up 
and forward, as he reached after some of the higher 
tender leaves on the bushes. So close was he that I 
could see plainly the drops glistening on his moist 
black nose. As for Billy, peacefully unwinding her 
long veil, she seemed fairly under the beast. 

I had no weapon, and any moment might bring 
some word or some noise that would catch the ani- 
mal's attention. Fortunately, for the moment, 
every one, relaxed in the first reaction after the long 
morning, was keeping silence. If the buffalo should 
look down, he could not fail to see Billy; and if he 
saw her, he would indubitably kill her. 

As has been explained, snapping the fingers does 
not seem to reach the attention of wild animals. 
Therefore I snapped mine as vigorously as I knew 
how. Billy heard, looked toward me, turned in the 
direction of my gaze, and slowly sank prone against 
the ground. Some of the boys heard me also, and 
I could see the heads of all of them popping up in 
interest from the banks of the stream. My cautious 
but very frantic signals to lie low were understood: 
the heads dropped back. Mavrouki, a rifle in each 
hand, came worming his way toward me through 
the grass with incredible quickness and agility. A 
moment later he thrust the 405 Winchester Into my 
hand. 

366 



THE BUFFALO 

This weapon, powerful and accurate as it is, the 
best of the lot for lions, was altogether too small 
for the tremendous brute before me. However, the 
Holland was in camp; and I was very glad in the 
circumstances to get this. The buffalo had browsed 
slowly forward into the clear, and was now taking 
the top off a small bush, and facing half away from 
us. It seemed to me quite the largest buffalo I had 
ever seen, though I should have been willing to have 
acknowledged at that moment that the circumstances 
had something to do with the estimate. However, 
later we found that the impression was correct. He 
was verily a giant of his kind. His height at the 
shoulder was five feet ten inches; and his build was 
even chunkier than the usual solid robust pattern 
of buffaloes. For example, his neck, just back of the 
horns, was two feet eight inches thick! He weighed 
not far from three thousand pounds. 

Once the rifle was in my hands I lost the feeling 
of utter helplessness, and began to plan the best 
way out of the situation. As yet the beast was 
totally unconscious of our presence; but that could 
not continue long. There were too many men about. 
A chance current of air from any one of a half dozen 
directions could not fail to give him the scent. Then 
there would be lively doings. It was exceedingly 
desirable to deliver the first careful blow of the en- 

367 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

gagement while he was unaware. On the other hand, 
his present attitude — half away from me — was 
not favourable; nor, in my exposed position dared 
I move to a better place. There seemed nothing 
better than to wait; so wait we did. Mavrouki 
crouched close at my elbow, showing not the faintest 
indication of a desire to be anywhere but there. 

The buffalo browsed for a minute or so; then swung 
slowly broadside on. So massive and low were the 
bosses of his horns that the brain shot was impossible. 
Therefore I aimed low in the shoulder. The shock 
of the bullet actually knocked that great beast off 
his feet! My respect for the hitting power of the 
405 went up several notches. The only trouble was 
that he rebounded like a rubber ball. Without an 
instant's hesitation I gave him another in the same 
place. This brought him to his knees for an instant; 
but he was immediately afoot again. Billy had, 
with great good sense and courage, continued to He 
absolutely flat within a few yards of the beast, 
Mavrouki and I had kept low, and C. and the men 
were out of sight. The buffalo therefore had seen 
none of his antagonists. He charged at a guess; 
and guessed wrong. As he went by I fired at his 
head, and, as we found out afterward, broke his 
jaw. A moment later C.'s great elephant gun roared 
from somewhere behind me as he fired by a glimpse 

368 



THE BUFFALO 

through the brush at the charging animal. It was 
an excellent snapshot, and landed back of the ribs. 

When the buffalo broke through the screen of 
brush I dashed after him, for I thought our only 
chance of avoiding danger lay in keeping close track 
of where that buffalo went. On the other side the 
bushes I found a little grassy opening, and then a 
small but dense thicket into which the animal had 
plunged. To my left, C. was running up, followed 
closely by Billy, who, with her usual good sense, 
had figured out the safest place to be immediately 
back of the guns. We came together at the thicket's 
edge. 

The animal's movements could be plainly fol- 
lowed by the sound of his crashing. We heard him 
dash away some distance, pause, circle a bit to the 
right, and then come rushing back in our direction. 
Stooping low we peered into the darkness of the 
thicket. Suddenly we saw him, not a dozen yards 
away. He was still afoot, but very slow. I dropped 
the magazine of five shots into him as fast as I could 
work the lever. We later found all the bullet-holes 
in a spot as big as the palm of your hand. These 
successive heavy blows delivered all in the same place 
were too much for even his tremendous vitality; and 
slowly he sank on his side. 



369 



XXVI 
JUJA 

MOST people have heard of Juja, the modern 
dwelling In the heart of an African wilderness, 
belonging to our own countryman, Mr. W. N. 
McMillan. If most people are as I was before I 
saw the place, they have considerable curiosity and 
no knowledge of what it is and how it looks. 

We came to Juja at the end of a wide circle that 
had lasted three months, and was now bringing us 
back again toward our starting point. For five 
days we had been camped on top a high bluff at the 
junction of two rivers. When we moved we dropped 
down the bluff, crossed one river, and, after some 
searching, found our way up the other bluff. There 
we were on a vast plain bounded by mountains 
thirty miles away. A large white and unexpected 
sign told us we were on Juja Farm, and warned us 
that we should be careful of our fires in the long 
grass. 

For an hour we plodded slowly along. Herds of 
zebra and hartebeeste drew aside before us, dark 

370 



JUJA 

heavy wildebeeste — the gnu — stood in groups at a 
safe distance their heads low, looking exactly like 
our vanished bison; ghostlike bands of Thompson's 
gazelles glided away with their smooth regular mo- 
tion. On the vast and treeless plains single small 
objects standing above the general uniformity took 
an exaggereated value; so that, before it emerged 
from the swirling heat mirage, a solitary tree might 
easily be mistaken for a group of buildings or a 
grove. Finally, however, we raised above the hori- 
zon a dark straight clump of trees. It danced in the 
mirage, and blurred and changed form, but it per- 
sisted. A strange patch of white kept appearing 
and disappearing again. This resolved itself into 
the side of a building. A spider-legged water tower 
appeared above the trees. 

Gradually we drew up on these. A bit later we 
swung to the right around a close wire fence ten feet 
high, passed through a gate, and rode down a long 
slanting avenue of young trees. Between the trees 
were century plants and flowers, and a clipped bor- 
der ran before them. The avenue ended before a 
low white bungalow, with shady verandas all about 
it, and vines. A formal flower garden lay immedi- 
ately about it, and a very tall flag pole had been 
planted in front. A hundred feet away the garden 
dropped off steep toone of the deep river canons. 

371 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Two white-robed Somalis appeared on the ve- 
randa to Inform us that McMillan was off on safari. 
Our own boys approaching at this moment, we there- 
upon led them past the house, down another long 
avenue of trees and flowers, out into an open space 
with many buildings at its edges, past extensive 
stables, and through another gate to the open plains 
once more. Here we made camp. After lunch we 
went back to explore, 

Juja is situated on the top of a high bluff over- 
looking a river. In all directions are tremendous 
grass plains. Donya Sabuk — the Mountain of 
Buffaloes — is the only landmark nearer than the 
dim mountains beyond the edge of the world, and 
that is a day's journey away. A rectangle of pos- 
sibly forty acres has been enclosed on three sides by 
animal-proof wire fence. The fourth side is the 
edge of the bluff. Within this enclosure have been 
planted many trees, now of good size; a pretty gar- 
den with abundance of flowers, ornamental shrubs, 
a sundial, and lawns. In the river bottom land 
below the bluff is a very extensive vegetable and 
fruit garden, with cornfields, and experimental 
plantings of rubber, and the like. For the use of 
the people of Juja here are raised a great variety and 
abundance of vegetables, fruits, and grains. 

Juja House, as has been said, stands back a hun- 
372 



a 
O 



JUJA 

dred feet from a bend In the bluffs that permits a 
view straight up the river valley. It is surrounded 
by gardens and trees, and occupies all one end of 
the enclosed rectangle. Farther down, and perched 
on the edge of a bluff, are several pretty little bunga- 
lows for the accommodation of the superintendent 
and his family, for the bachelors' mess, for the farm 
offices and dispensary, and for the dairy room, the 
ice-plant and the post-office and telegraph station. 
Back of and inland from this row on the edge of the 
cliff, and scattered widely in open space, are a large 
store stocked with everything on earth, the Somali 
quarters of low whitewashed buildings, the cattle 
corrals, the stables, wild animal cages, granaries, 
blacksmith and carpenter shops, wagon sheds and 
the like. Outside the enclosure, and a half mile 
away, are the conical grass huts that make up the 
native village. Below the cliff is a concrete dam, 
an electric light plant, a pumping plant and a few 
details of the sort. 

Such Is a relief map of Juja proper. Four miles 
away, and on another river, is Long Juju, a strictly 
utilitarian affair where grow ostriches, cattle, sheep, 
and various irrigated things in the bottom land. 
All the rest of the farm, or estate, or whatever one 
would call it, is open plain, with here and there a 
river bottom, or a trifle of brush cover. But never 

373 

f 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

enough to constitute more than an Isolated and 
lonesome patch. 

Before leaving London we had received from Mc- 
Millan earnest assurances that he kept open house, 
and that we must take advantage of his hospitality 
should we happen his way. Therefore when one of 
his white-robed Somalis approached us to inquire 
respectfully as to what we wanted for dinner, we 
yielded weakly to the temptation and told him. 
Then we marched us boldly to the house and took 
possession. 

All around the house ran a veranda, shaded by 
bamboo curtains and vines, furnished with the luxu- 
rious teakwood chairs of the tropics of which you can 
so extend the arms as to form two comfortable and 
elevated rests for your feet. Horns of various ani- 
mals ornamented the walls. A megaphone and 
a huge terrestrial telescope on a tripod stood in one 
corner. Through the latter one could examine at 
favourable times the herds of game on the plains. 

And inside — mind you, we were fresh from three 
months in the wilderness — we found rugs, pictures, 
wall paper, a pianola, many books, baths, beautiful 
white bedrooms with snowy mosquito curtains, 
electric lights, running water, and above all an at- 
mosphere of homelike comfort. We fell into easy 
chairs, and seized books and magazines. The So- 

374 



JUJA 

mails brought us trays with iced and fizzy drinks 
in thin glasses. When the time came we crossed the 
veranda in the rear to enter a spacious separate 
dining-room. The table was white with napery, 
glittering with silver and glass, bright with flowers. 
We ate leisurely of a well-served course dinner, end- 
ing with black coffee, shelled nuts, and candied 
fruit. Replete and satisfied we strolled back across 
the veranda to the main house. F. raised his hand. 

"Hark!" he admonished us. 

We held still. From the velvet darkness came 
the hurried petulant barking of zebra; three hyenas 
howled. 



375 



XXVII 
A VISIT AT JUJA 

NEXT day we left all this; and continued our 
march. About a month later, however, we 
encountered McMillan himself in Nairobi. I was 
just out from a very hard trip to the coast — Billy 
not with me — and wanted nothing so much as a 
few days' rest. McMillan's cordiality was not to be 
denied, however, so the very next day found us 
tucking ourselves into a buckboard behind four white 
Abyssinian mules. McMillan, some Somalis and 
Captain Duirs came along in another similar rig. 
Our driver was a Hottentot half-caste from South 
Africa. He had a flat face, a yellow skin, a quiet 
manner, and a competent hand. His name was 
Michael. At his feet crouched a small Kikuyu 
savage, in blanket, ear ornaments and all the fix- 
ings, armed with a long lashed whip and raucous 
voice. At any given moment he was likely to hop 
out over the moving wheel, run forward, bat the off 
leading mule, and hop back again, all with the most 
extraordinary agility. He likewise hurled what 

376 



A VISIT AT JUJA 

sounded like very opprobrious epithets at such 
natives as did not get out the way quickly enough to 
suit him. The expression of his face, which was that 
of a person steeped in woe, never changed. 

We rattled out of Nairobi at a great pace, and 
swung into the Fort Hall Road. This famous 
thoroughfare, one of the three or four made roads in 
all East Africa, is about sixty miles long. It is a 
strategic necessity but is used by thousands of na- 
tives on their way to see the sights of the great 
metropolis. As during the season there is no water 
for much of the distance, a great many pay for their 
curiosity with their lives. The road skirts the base 
of the hills, winding In and out of shallow canons 
and about the edges of rounded hills. To the right 
one can see far out across the Athi Plains. 

We met an almost unbroken succession of people. 
There were long pack trains of women, quite cheer- 
ful, bent over under the weight of firewood or vege- 
tables, many with babies tucked away in the folds 
of their garments; mincing dandified warriors with 
poodle-dog hair, skewers in their ears, their jewel- 
lery brought to a high polish, a fatuous expression 
of self-satisfaction on their faces, carrying each a 
section of sugarcane which they now used as a staff 
but would later devour for lunch; bearers, under 
convoy of straight soldierly red-sashed Sudanese, 

377 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

transporting Government goods; wild-eyed staring 
shenzis from the forest, with matted hair and goat- 
skin garments, looking ready to bolt aside at the 
slightest alarm; coveys of marvellous and giggling 
damsels, their fine-grained skin anointed and shin- 
ing with red oil, strung with beads and shells, very 
coquettish and sure of their feminine charm; naked 
small boys marching solemnly like their elders; 
camel trains from far-off Abyssinia or Somaliland 
under convoy of white-clad turbaned grave men of 
beautiful features; donkey safaris in charge of dirty 
degenerate looking East Indians carrying trade goods 
to some distant post — all these and many more, go- 
ing one way or the other, drew one side, at the sight 
of our white faces, to let us pass. 

About two o'clock we suddenly turned off from 
the road, apparently quite at random, down the 
long grassy interminable incline that dipped slowly 
down and slowly up again over great distance to 
form the Athi Plains. Along the road, with its 
endless swarm of humanity, we had seen no game, 
but after a half mile it began to appear. We en- 
countered herds of zebra, kongoni, wildebeeste, and 
"Tommies" standing about or grazing, sometimes 
almost within range from the moving buckboard. 
After a time we made out the trees and water tower 
of Juja ahead; and by four o'clock had turned into 

378 



A VISIT AT JUJA 

the avenue of trees. Our approach had been seen. 
Tea was ready, and a great and hospitable table of 
bottles, ice, and siphons. 

The next morning we inspected the stables, built 
of stone in a hollow square, like a fort, with box stalls 
opening directly into the courtyard and screened 
carefully against the deadly flies. The horses, 
beautiful creatures, were led forth each by his proud 
and anxious syce. We tried them all, and selected 
our mounts for the time of our stay. The syces 
were small black men, lean and well formed, accus- 
tomed to running afoot wherever their charges went, 
at walk, lope or gallop. Thus in a day they covered 
incredible distances over all sorts of country; but 
were always at hand to seize the bridle reins when 
the master wished to dismount. Like the rickshaw 
runners in Nairobi, they wore their hair clipped close 
around their bullet heads and seemed to have de- 
veloped into a small compact hard type of their own. 
They ate and slept with their horses. 

Just outside the courtyard of the stables a little 
barred window had been cut through. Near this 
were congregated a number of Kikuyu savages 
wrapped in their blankets, receiving each in turn a 
portion of cracked corn from a dusty white man 
behind the bars. They were a solemn, unsmiling, 
strange type of savage, and they performed all the 

379 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

manual work within the enclosure, squatting on 
their heels and pulling methodically but slowly at 
the weeds, digging with their pangas, carrying loads 
to and fro, or solemnly pushing a lawn mower, their 
blankets wrapped shamelessly about their necks. 
They were harried about by a red-faced beefy Eng- 
lish gardener with a marvellous vocabulary of several 
native languages and a short hippo-hide whip. He 
talked himself absolutely purple in the face without, 
as far as my observation went, penetrating an inch 
below the surface. The Kikuyus went right on do- 
ing what they were already doing in exactly the same 
manner. Probably the purple Englishman was sat- 
isfied with that, but I am sure apoplexy of either the 
heat or thundering variety has him by now. 

Before the store building squatted another group 
of savages. Perhaps in time one of the lot expected 
to buy something; or possibly they just sat. No- 
body but a storekeeper would ever have time to find 
out. Such is the native way. The storekeeper In 
this case was named John. Besides being store- 
keeper, he had charge of the issuing of all the house 
supplies, and those for the white men's mess; he 
must do all the worrying about the upper class na- 
tives; he must occasionally kill a buck for the meat 
supply; and he must be prepared to take out any 
stray tenderfeet that happen along during McMil- 

380 



A VISIT AT JUJA 

lan's absence, and persuade them that they are 
mighty hunters. His domain was a fascinating place, 
for it contained everything from pianola parts to 
patent washstands. The next best equipped place 
of the kind I know of is the property room of a 
moving picture company. 

We went to mail a letter, and found the postmaster 
to be a gentle-voiced, polite little Hindu, who greeted 
us smilingly, and attempted to conceal a work of 
art. We insisted; whereupon he deprecatingly drew 
forth a copy of a newspaper cartoon having to do 
with Colonel Roosevelt's visit. It was copied with 
mathematical exactness, and highly coloured in a 
manner to throw, into profound melancholy the 
chauffeur of a coloured supplement press. We ad- 
mired and praised; whereupon, still shyly, he pro- 
duced more, and yet again more copies of the same 
cartoon. When we left, he was reseating himself to 
the painstaking valueless labour with which he filled 
his days. Three times a week such mail as Juja gets 
comes in via native runner. We saw the latter, a 
splendid figure, almost naked, loping easily, his 
little bundle held before him. 

Down past the office and dispensary we strolled, 
by the comfortable, airy, white man's clubhouse. 
The headman of the native population passed us 
with a dignified salute; a fine upstanding deep- 

381 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

chested man, with a lofty air of fierce pride. He 
and his handful of soldiers alone of the natives, ex- 
cept the Somalis and syces, dwelt within the com- 
pound in a group of huts near the gate. There 
when off duty they might be seen polishing their 
arms, or chatting with their women. The latter 
were ladies of leisure, with wonderful chignons, 
much jewellery, and patterned Mericani wrapped 
gracefully about their pretty figures. 

By the time we had seen all these things it was 
noon. We ate lunch. The various members of the 
party decided to do various things. I elected to go 
out with McMillan while he killed a wildebeeste; 
and I am very glad I did. It was a most astonish- 
ing performance. 

You must imagine us driving out the gate in a 
buckboard behind four small but lively white Abys- 
sinian mules. In the front seat were Michael, the 
Hottentot driver, and McMillan's Somali gun- 
bearer. In the rear seat were McMillan and my- 
self, while a small black syce perched precariously 
behind. Our rifles rested in a sling before us. So 
we jogged out on the road to Long Juju, examining 
with a critical eye the herds of game to right and 
left of us. The latter examined us, apparently, 
with an eye as critical. Finally, in a herd of zebra, 
we espied a lone wildebeeste. 

382 



A VISIT AT JUJA 

The wildebeeste is the Jekyll and Hyde of the ani- 
mal kingdom. His usual and familiar habit is that 
of a heavy, sluggish animal, like our vanished bison. 
He stands solid and inert, his head down; he plods 
slowly forward in single file, his horns swinging, 
each foot planted deliberately. In short, he is the 
personification of dignity, solid respectability, gravity 
of demeanour. But then all of a sudden, at any 
small interruption, he becomes the giddiest of 
created beings. Up goes his head and tail, he buck 
jumps, cavorts, gambols, kicks up his heels, bounds 
stiff-legged, and generally performs like an irre- 
sponsible infant. To see a whole herd at once of 
these grave and reverend seigneurs suddenly blow 
up into such light-headed capers goes far to destroy 
one's faith in the stability of institutions. 

Also the wildebeeste is not misnamed. He is a 
conservative, and he sees no particular reason for 
allowing his curiosity to interfere with his precon- 
ceived beliefs. The latter are distrustful. There- 
fore he and his females and his young — I should say 
small — depart when one is yet far away. I say 
small, because I do not believe that any wildebeeste is 
ever young. They do not resemble calves, but are ex- 
act replicas of the big ones, just as Niobe's daughters 
are in nothing childlike, but merely smaller women. 

When we caught sight of this lone wildebeeste 

383 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

among the zebra, I naturally expected that we would 
pull up the buckboard, descend, and approach to 
within some sort of long range. Then we would 
open fire. Barring luck, the wildebeeste would 
thereupon depart "wilder and beestier than ever," 
as John McCutcheon has it. Not at all! Michael, 
the Hottentot, turned the buckboard off the road, 
headed toward the distant quarry, and charged at 
full speed! Over stones we went that sent us feet 
into the air, down and out of shallow gullies that 
seemed as though they would jerk the pole from the 
vehicle with a grand rattlety-bang, everyone hang- 
ing on for his life. I was entirely occupied with the 
state of my spinal column and the retention of my 
teeth, but McMillan must have been keeping his 
eye on the game. One peculiarity of the wildebeeste 
is that he cannot see behind him, and another is 
that he is curious. It would not require a very large 
bump of curiosity, however, to cause any animal to 
wonder what all the row was about. There could 
be no doubt that this animal would sooner or later 
stop for an instant to look for the purpose of seeing 
what was up In jungleland; and just before doing so 
he would, for a few steps, slow down from a gallop to 
a trot. McMillan was watching for this symptom. 

"Now!" he yelled, when he saw it. 

Instantly Michael threw his weight into the right 

384 




warn I kmmm i i i ■'i3th 



'Donya Sabuk — the Mountain of Buffaloes — is the only 
landmark." 




"Juja Farm." 



A VISIT AT JUJA 

rein and against the brake. We swerved so vio- 
lently to the right and stopped so suddenly that I 
nearly landed on the broad prairies. The manoeuvre 
fetched us up broadside. The small black syce — 
and heaven knows how he had managed to hang on 
— darted to the heads of the leading mules. At the 
same moment the wildebeeste turned, and stopped; 
but even before he had swung his head, McMillan 
had fired. It was extraordinarily good, quick work, 
the way he picked up the long range from the spurts 
of dust where the bullets hit. At the third or fourth 
shots he landed one. Immediately the beast was 
off again at a tearing run pursued by a rapid fusil- 
lade from the rem.aining shots. Then with a violent 
jerk and a wild yell we were off again. 

This time, since the animal was wounded, he 
made for rougher country. And everywhere that 
wildebeeste went we too were sure to go. We hit 
or shaved boulders that ought to have smashed a 
wheel, we tore through thick brush regardless. 
Twice we charged unhesitatingly over apparent prec- 
ipices. I do not know the name of the manufac- 
turer of the buckboard. If I did, I should certainly 
recommend it here. Twice more we swerved to our 
broadside and cut loose the port batteries. Once 
more McMillan hit. Then, on the fourth "run," 
we gained perceptibly. The beast was weakening. 

38s 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

When he came to a stumbling halt we were not over 
a hundred yards from him, and McMillan easily- 
brought him down. We had chased him four or 
five miles, and McMillan had fired nineteen shots, of 
which two had hit. The rifle practice throughout 
had been remarkably good, and a treat to watch. 
Personally, besides the fun of attending the show, 
I got a mighty good afternoon's exercise. 

We loaded the game aboard and jogged slowly back 
to the house, for the mules were pretty tired. We 
found a neighbour, Mr. Heatley of Kamiti Rancb_ 
who had "dropped down" twelve miles to see us. 

On account of a theft McMillan now had all the 
Somalis assembled for interrogation on the side 
verandas. The interrogation did not amount to 
much; but while it was going on the Sudanese head- 
man and his askaris were quietly searching the boys' 
quarters. After a time they appeared. The sus- 
pected men had concealed nothing: but the searchers 
brought with them three of McMillan's shirts which 
they had found among the effects of another, and 
entirely unsuspected, boy named Abadie. 

"How is this, Abadie?" demanded McMillan 
sternly. 

Abadie hesitated. Then he evidently reflected 
that there Is slight use in having a deity unless one 
makes use of him. 

386 



A VISIT AT JUJA 

"Bwana," said he with an engaging air of belief 
and candour, "God must have put them there !" 

That evening we planned a "general day" for the 
morrow. We took boys and buckboards and saddle- 
horses, beaters, shotguns, rifles, and revolvers, and 
we sallied forth for a grand and joyous time. The 
day from a sporting standpoint was entirely suc- 
cessful, the bag consisting of two waterbuck, a zebra, 
a big wart-hog, six hares, and six grouse. Personally 
I was a little hazy and uncertain. By evening the 
fever had me, and though I stayed at Juja for six 
days longer, it was as a patient to McMillan's un- 
failing kindness rather than as a participant in the 
life of the farm. 



3^7 



XXVIII 

A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

A SHORT time later, at about the middle of the 
jlIl rainy season, McMillan left for a little fishing 
off Catalina Island. The latter is some fourteen 
thousand miles of travel from Juja. Before leaving 
on this flying trip, McMillan made us a gorgeous 
offer. 

"If," said he," you want to go it alone, you can go 
out and use Juja as long as you please." 

This offer, or, rather, a portion of it, you may be 
sure, we accepted promptly. McMillan wanted in 
addition to leave us his servants; but to this we 
would not agree. Memba Sasa and Mahomet were, 
of course, members of our permanent staff. In 
addition to them we picked up another house boy, 
named Leyeye. He was a Masai. These proud 
and aristocratic savages rarely condescend to take 
service of any sort except as herders; but when they 
do they prove to be unusually efficient and intelli- 
gent. We had also a Somali cook, and six ordinary 
br^r0-s to do general labour. This small safari we 

388 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

started off" afoot for Juja. The whole lot cost us 
about what we would pay one Chinaman on the 
Pacific Coast. 

Next day we ourselves drove out in the mule 
buckboard. The rains were on, and the road was 
very muddy. After the vital tropical fashion the 
grass was springing tall in the natural meadows and 
on the plains and the brief-lived white lilies and an 
abundance of ground flowers washed the slopes with 
colour. Beneath the grass covering, the entire sur- 
face of the ground was an inch or so deep in water. 
This was always most surprising, for, apparently, the 
whole country should have been high and dry. 
Certainly its level was that of a plateau rather than 
a bottom land; so that one seemed always to be 
travelling at an elevation. Nevertheless walking or 
riding we were continually splashing, and the only 
dry going outside the occasional rare "islands" of 
the slight undulations we found near the very edge 
of the bluffs above the rivers. There the drainage 
seemed sufficient to carry off the excess. Elsewhere 
the hardpan or bedrock must have been excep- 
tionally level and near the top of the ground. 

Nothing nor nobody seemed to mind this much. 
The game splashed around merrily, cropping at the 
tall grass; the natives slopped indifferently, and we 
ourselves soon became so accustomed to two or 

389 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

three inches of water and wet feet that after the 
first two days we never gave those phenomena a 
thought. 

The world above at this season of the year was 
magnificent. The African heavens are always 
widely spacious, but now they seemed to have blown 
even vaster than usual. In the sweep of the vision 
four or five heavy black rainstorms would be trailing 
their skirts across an infinitely remote prospect; 
between them white piled scud clouds and cumuli 
sailed like ships; and from them reflected so bril- 
liant a sunlight and behind all showed so dazzling a 
blue sky that the general impression was of a fine 
day. The rainstorms' gray veils slanted; tremen- 
dous patches of shadow lay becalmed on the plains; 
bright sunshine poured abundantly its warmth and 
yellow light. 

So brilliant with both direct and reflected light 
and the values of contrast were the heavens, that 
when one happened to stand within one of the great 
shadows it became extraordinarily difficult to make 
out game on the plains. The pupils contracted to 
the brilliancy overhead. Often too, near sunset, 
the atmosphere would become suff'used with a lurid 
saffron light that made everything unreal and 
ghastly. At such times the game seemed puzzled by 
the unusual aspect of things. The zebra espe- 

390 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

cially would bark and stamp and stand their ground, 
and even come nearer out of sheer curiosity. I haye 
thus been within fifty yards of them, right out in 
the open. At such times it was as though the sky, 
instead of rounding over in the usual shape, had 
been thrust up at the western horizon to the same 
incredible height as the zenith. In the space thus 
created were piled great clouds through which 
slanted broad bands of yellow light on a diminished 
world. 

It rained with great suddenness on our devoted 
heads, and with a curious effect of metamorphosing 
the entire universe. One moment all was clear and 
smiling, with the trifling exception of distant rain 
squalls that amounted to nothing in the general 
scheme. Then the horizon turned black, and with 
incredible swiftness the dark clouds materialized 
out of nothing, rolled high to the zenith like a wave, 
blotted out every last vestige of brightness. A 
heavy oppressive still darkness breathed over the 
earth. Then through the silence came a faraway 
soft drumming sound, barely to be heard. As we 
bent our ears to catch this it grew louder and louder, 
approaching at breakneck speed like a troop of 
horses. It became a roar fairly terrifying in its 
mercilessly continued crescendo. At last the deluge 
of rain burst actually as a relief. 

391 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

And what a deluge! Facing it we found difficulty 
in breathing. In six seconds every stitch we wore 
was soaked through, and only the notebook, to- 
bacco, and matches bestowed craftily in the crown 
of the cork helmet escaped. The visible world was 
dark and contracted. It seemed that nothing but 
rain could anywhere exist; as though this storm must 
fill all space to the horizon and beyond. Then it 
swept on and we found ourselves steaming in bright 
sunlight. The dry flat prairie (if this was the first 
shower for some time) had suddenly become a lake 
from the surface of which projected bushes and 
clumps of grass. Every game trail had become the 
water course of a swiftly running brook. 

But most pleasant were the evenings at Juja, 
when, safe indoors, we sat and listened to the charge 
of the storm's wild horsemen, and the thunder of its 
drumming on the tin roof. The onslaughts were as 
fierce and abrupt as those of Cossacks, and swept by 
as suddenly. The roar died away in the distance, 
and we could then hear the steady musical dripping 
of waters. 

Pleasant it was also to walk out from Juja in al- 
most any direction. The compound, and the build- 
ings and trees within it, soon dwindled in the dis- 
tances of the great flat plain. Herds of game were 
always in sight, grazing, lying down, staring in our 

392 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

direction. The animals were incredibly numerous. 
Some days they were fairly tame, and others ex- 
ceedingly wild, without any rhyme or reason. This 
shyness or the reverse seemed not to be individual 
to one herd; but to be practically universal. On a 
"wild day" everything was wild from the Lone Tree 
to Long Juju. It would be manifestly absurd to 
guess at the reason. Possibly the cause might be 
atmospheric or electrical; possibly days of nervous- 
ness might follow nights of unusual activity by the 
lions; one could invent a dozen possibilities. Per- 
haps the kongonis decided It. 

At Juja we got to know the kongonis even better 
than we had before. They are comical, quizzical 
beasts, with long-nosed humorous faces, a singu- 
larly awkward construction, a shambling gait; but 
with altruistic dispositions and an ability to get over 
the ground at an extraordinary speed. Every move 
is a joke; their expression is always one of grieved 
but humorous astonishment. They quirk their 
heads sidewise or down and stare at an intruder with 
the most comical air of skeptical wonder. "Well, 
look who's here!" says the expression. 

"Pooh!" says the kongoni himself, after a good 
look, "pooh! pooh!" with the most insulting in- 
flection. 

He is very numerous and very alert. One or more 

393 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

of a grazing herd are always perched as sentinels 
atop ant hills or similar small elevations. On the 
slightest intimation of danger they give the alarm, 
whereupon the herd makes off at once, gathering in 
all other miscellaneous game that may be in the 
vicinity. They will go out of their way to do this, 
as every African hunter knows. It Immensely com- 
plicates matters; for the sportsman must not only 
stalk his quarry, but he must stalk each and every 
kongoni as well. Once, in another part of the coun- 
try, C. and I saw a kongoni leave a band of its own 
species far down to our right, gallop toward us and 
across our front, pick up a herd of zebra we were 
trying to approach and make off with them to safety. 
We cursed that kongoni, but we admired him, for 
he deliberately ran out of safety into danger for the 
purpose of warning those zebra. So seriously do 
they take their job as policemen of the plains that 
it is very common for a lazy single animal of another 
species to graze in a herd of kongonis simply for the 
sake of protection. Wildebeeste are much given to 
this. 

The kongoni progresses by a series of long high 
bounds. While in midair he half tucks up his feet, 
which gives him the appearance of an automatic 
toy. This gait looks deliberate, but is really quite 
fast; as the mounted sportsman discovers when he 

394 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

enters upon a vain pursuit. If the horse is an es- 
pecially good one, so that the kongoni feels himself 
a trifle closely pressed, the latter stops bouncing and 
runs. Then he simply fades away into the distance. 
These beasts are also given to chasing each other 
all over the landscape. When a gentleman kongoni 
conceives a dislike for another gentleman kongoni, 
he makes no concealment of his emotions; but 
marches up and prods him in the ribs. The en- 
suing battle is usually fought out very stubbornly 
with much feinting, parrying, clashing of the lyre- 
shaped horns; and a good deal of crafty circling for a 
favourable opening. As far as I was ever able to see 
not much real damage is inflicted; though I could well 
imagine that only skilful fence prevented unpleasant 
punctures in soft spots. After a time one or the 
other feels himself weakening. He dashes strongly 
in, wheels while his antagonist is braced, and makes 
off. The enemy pursues. Then, apparently, the 
chase is on for the rest of the day. The victor is 
not content merely to drive his rival out of the coun- 
try; he wants to catch him. On that object he is 
very intent; about as intent as the other fellow is of 
getting away. I have seen two such beasts almost 
run over a dozen men who were making no effort 
to keep out of sight. Long after honour is satis- 
fied, indeed, as it seems to me, long after the dic- 

39S 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

tates of common decency would call a halt that per- 
sistent and single-minded pursuer bounds solemnly 
and conscientiously along in the wake of his dis- 
gusted rival. 

These and the zebra and wildebeeste were at Juja 
the most conspicuous game animals. If they could 
not for the moment be seen from the veranda 
of the house itself, a short walk to the gate was suf- 
ficient to reveal many hundreds. Among them fed 
herds of the smaller Thompson's gazelle, or "Tom- 
mies." So small were they that only their heads 
could be seen above the tall grass as they ran. 

To me there was never-ending fascination in walk- 
ing out over those sloppy plains in search of adven- 
ture, and in the pleasure of watching the beasts. 
Scarcely less fascination haunted a stroll down the 
river caiions or along the tops of the bluifs above 
them. Here the country was broken into rocky 
escarpments in which were caves; was clothed with 
low and scattered brush; or was wooded in the bot- 
tom lands. Naturally an entirely different set of 
animals dwelt here; and in addition one was often 
treated to the romance of surprise. Herds of im- 
palla haunted these edges; graceful creatures, trim 
and pretty with wide horns and beautiful glowing 
red coats. Sometimes they would venture out on 
the open plains, in a very compact band, ready to 

396 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

break back for cover at the slightest alarm; but 
generally fed inside the fringe of bushes. Once from 
the bluff above I saw a beautiful herd of over a hun- 
dred pacing decorously along the river bottom be- 
low me, single file, the oldest buck at the head, and 
the miscellaneous small buck bringing up the rear 
after the does. I shouted at them. Immediately 
the solemn procession broke. They began to leap, 
springing straight up into the air as though from a 
released spring, or diving forward and upward in 
long graceful bounds like dolphins at sea. These 
leaps were incredible. Several even jumped quite 
over the backs of others; and all without a semblance 
of effort. 

Along the fringe of the river, too, dwelt the lordly 
waterbuck, magnificent and proud as the stags of 
Landseer; and the tiny stelnbuck and duiker, no 
bigger than jack-rabbits, but perfect little deer for 
all that. The Incredibly plebeian wart-hog rooted 
about; and down in the bottom lands were leopards. 
I knocked one off a rock one day. In the river Itself 
dwelt hippopotamuses and crocodiles. One of the 
latter dragged under a yearling calf just below 
the house itself, and while we were there. Besides 
these were of course such affairs as hyenas and 
jackals, and great numbers of small game: hares, 
ducks, three kinds of grouse, guinea fowl, pigeons, 

397 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

quail, and jack snipe, not to speak of a variety of 
plover. 

In the drier extents of dry grass atop the bluffs 
the dance birds were especially numerous; each with 
his dance ring nicely trodden out, each leaping and 
falling rhythmically for hours at a time. Toward 
sunset great flights of sand grouse swarmed across 
the yellowing sky from some distant feeding groiind. 

Near Juja I had one of the three experiences that 
especially impressed on my mind the abundance of 
African big game. I had stalked and wounded a 
wildebceste across the N'derogo River, and had fol- 
lowed him a mile or so afoot, hoping to be able to put 
in a finishing shot. As sometimes happens the ani- 
mal rather gained strength as time went on; so I 
signalled for my horse, mounted, and started out to 
run him down. After a quarter mile we began to 
pick up the game herds. Those directly in our 
course ran straight away; other herds on cither side, 
seeing them running, came across in a slant to join 
them. Inside of a half mile I was driving before me 
literally thousands of head of game of several va- 
rieties. The dust rose in a choking cloud that fairly 
obscured the landscape, and the drumming of the 
hooves was like the stampeding of cattle. It was 
a wonderful sight. 

On the plains of Juja, alao, I had my one real 

39« 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

African Adventure, when, as In the Sunday Supple- 
ments, I Stared Death in the Face — also everlast- 
ing disgrace and much derision. We were just 
returning to the farm after an afternoon's walk, and 
as we approached I began to look around for much 
needed meat. A herd of zebra stood in sight; so 
leaving Memba Sasa I began to stalk them. My 
usual weapon for this sort of thing was the Spring- 
field, for which I carried extra cartridges in my belt. 
On this occasion, however, I traded with Memba 
Sasa for the 405, simply for the purpose of trying it 
out. At a few paces over three hundred yards I 
landed on the zebra, but did not knock him down. 
Then I set out to follow. It was a long job and took 
me far, for again and again he joined other zebra, 
when, of course, I could not tell one from t'other. 
My only expedient was to frighten the lot. There- 
upon the uninjured ones would distance the one that 
was hurt. The latter kept his eye on me. When- 
ever I managed to get within reasonable distance, I 
put up the rear sight of the 405, and let drive. I 
heard every shot hit,and after each hit was more than 
a little astonished to see the zebra still on his feet, 
and still able tQ wobble on.* The fifth shot emptied 

*I am sorry I did not try out this heavy-calibred rifle oftener at long range. 
It was a marvellously effective weapon at close quarters; but I have an idea — 
but only a tentative idea — that above three hundred yards its velocity is so 
reduced by air resistance against the big blunt bullet as greatly to impair its 
hitting powers. 

399 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the rifle. As I had no more cartridges for this arm, 
I approached to within sixty yards, and stopped to 
wait either for him to fall, or for a very distant 
Memba Sasa to come up with more cartridges. 
Then the zebra waked up. He put his ears back and 
came straight in my direction. This rush I took for 
a blind death flurry, and so dodged off to one side, 
thinking that he would of course go by me. Not at 
all! He swung around on the circle too, and made 
after me. I could see that his ears were back, his 
eyes blazing, and his teeth snapping with rage. It 
was a malicious charge, and, as such, with due de- 
liberation, I offer it to sportsman's annals. As I had 
no more cartridges I ran away as fast as I could go. 
Although I made rather better time than ever I had 
attained to before, it was evident that the zebra 
would catch me; and as the brute could paw, bite, 
and kick, I did not much care for the situation. 
Just as he had nearly reached me, and as I was trying 
to figure on what kind of a fight I could put up with 
a clubbed rifle barrel, he fell dead. To be killed 
by a lion is at least a dignified death; but to be 
mauled by a zebra! 

We generally got back from our walks or rides 
just before dark; to find the house gleaming with 
lights, a hot bath ready, and a tray of good wet 
drinks next the easy chairs. There, after changing 

400 




n*^ 



" Squatting on their heels and pulling methodicali}- 
but slowly at the weeds." 




"Ostriches at Long Juja 




At Long Juja— a strictly utilitarian farm. 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

our clothes, we sipped and read the papers — two 
months off the press, but fresh arrived for all that — 
until a white-robed, dignified figure appeared in the 
doorway to inform us that dinner was ready. Our 
ways were civilized and soft, then, until the morrow 
when once again, perhaps, we went forth into the 
African wilderness. 

Juja is a place of startling contrasts — of naked 
savages clipping formal hedges, of windows opening 
from a perfectly appointed brilliantly lighted dining- 
room to a night whence float the lost wails of hyenas 
or the deep grumbling of lions, of cushioned luxu- 
rious chairs in reach of many books, but looking out 
on hills where the game herds feed, of comfortable 
beds with fine linen and soft blankets where one lies 
listening to the voices of an African night, or the 
weirder minor house noises whose origin and nature 
no man could guess, of tennis courts and summer 
houses, of lawns and hammocks, of sundials and 
clipped hedges separated only by a few strands of 
woven wire from fields identical with those in which 
roamed the cave men of the pleistocene. But to 
Billy was reserved the most ridiculous contrast of 
all. Her bedroom opened to a veranda a few feet 
above a formal garden. This was a very formal 
garden, with a sundial, gravelled walks, bordered 
flower beds, and clipped border hedges. One night 

401 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

she heard a noise outside. Slipping on a warm wrap 
and seizing her trusty revolver she stole out on the 
veranda to investigate. She looked over the ve- 
randa rail. There just below her, trampling the 
flower beds, tracking the gravel walks, endangering 
the sundial, stood a hippopotamus! 

We had neighbours six or seven miles away. At 
times they came down to spend the night and 
luxuriate in the comforts of civilization. They 
were a Lady A., and her nephew, and a young Scotch 
acquaintance the nephew had taken Into partner- 
ship. They had built themselves circular houses of 
papyrus reeds with conical thatched roofs and earth 
floors, had purchased ox teams and gathered a dozen 
or so Kikuyus, and were engaged in breaking a farm 
in the wilderness. The life was rough and hard, and 
Lady A. and her nephew gently bred, but they seemed 
to be having quite cheerfully the time of their lives. 
The game furnished them meat, as it did all of us, 
and they hoped in time that their labours would 
make the land valuable and productive. Fascinat- 
ing as was the life, it was also one of many depriva- 
tions. At Juja were a number of old copies of Life, 
the pretty girls in which so fascinated the young men 
that we broke the laws of propriety by presenting 
them, though they did not belong to us. C, the 
nephew, was of the finest type of young Englishman, 

402 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

clean cut, enthusiastic, good looking, with an air of 
engaging vitality and optimism. His partner, of 
his own age, was an insufferable youth. Brought up 
in some small Scottish valley, his outlook had never 
widened. Because he wanted to buy four oxen at 
a cheaper price, he tried desperately to abrogate 
quarantine regulations. If he had succeeded, he 
would have made a few rupees, but would have in- 
troduced disease in his neighbours' herds. This 
consideration did not affect him. He was much 
given to sneering at what he could not understand; 
and therefore, a great deal met with his disapproval. 
His reading had evidently brought him down only to 
about the middle sixties; and affairs at that date were 
to him still burning questions. Thus he would de- 
claim vehemently over the Alabama claims. 

"I blush with shame," he would cry, "when I 
think of England's attitude in that matter." 

We pointed out that the dispute had been ami- 
cably settled by the best minds of the time, had 
passed between the covers of history, and had given 
way in immediate importance to several later topics. 

"This vacillating policy," he swept on, "annoys 
me. For my part, I should like to see so firm a stand 
taken on all questions that in any part of the world, 
whenever a man, and wherever a man, said *I am 
an Englishman!' everybody else would draw back! " 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

He was an incredible person. However, I was 
glad to see him; he and a few others of his kind have 
consoled me for a number of Americans I have met 
abroad. Lady A., with the tolerant philosophy of 
her class, seemed merely amused. I have often 
since wondered how this ill-assorted partnership 
turned out. 

Two other neighbours of ours dropped in once or 
twice — twenty-six miles on bicycles, on which they 
could ride only a portion of the distance. They 
had some sort of a ranch up in the Ithanga Hills; 
and were two of the nicest fellows one would want to 
meet, brimful of energy, game for anything, and had 
so good a time always that the grumpiest fever could 
not prevent every one else having a good time too. 
Once they rode on their bicycles forty miles to Nai- 
robi, danced half the night at a Government House 
ball, rode back in the early morning, and did an 
afternoon's plowing! They explained this feat by 
pointing out most convincingly that the ground was 
just right for plowing, but they did not want to 
miss the ball! 

Occasionally a trim and dapper police official 
would drift In on horseback looking for native crim- 
inals; and once a safari came by. Twelve miles 
away was the famous Kamiti Farm of Heatly, 
where Roosevelt killed his buffalo; and once or 

404 



A RESIDENCE AT JUJA 

twice Heatly himself, a fine chap, came to see us. 
Also just before I left with Duirs for a lion hunt on 
Kapiti, Lady Girouard, wife of the Governor, and 
her nephew and niece rode out for a hunt. In the 
African fashion, all these people brought their own 
personal servants. It makes entertaining easy. 
Nobody knows where all these boys sleep; but they 
manage to tuck away somewhere, and always show 
up after a mysterious system of their own whenever 
there is anything to be done. 

We stayed at Juja a little over three weeks. Then 
most reluctantly said farewell and returned to Nai- 
robi in preparation for a long trip to the south. 



405 



XXIX 
CHAPTER THE LAST 

WITH our return from Juja to Nairobi for a 
breathing space, this volume comes to a logical 
conclusion. In it I have tried to give a fairly com- 
prehensive impression — it could hardly be a pic- 
ture of so large a subject — of a portion of East 
Equatorial Africa, its animals, and its people. 
Those who are sufficiently interested will have an 
opportunity in a succeeding volume of wandering 
with us even farther afield. The low jungly coast 
region; the fierce desert of the Serengetti; the swift 
sullen rhinoceros-haunted stretches of the Tsavo; 
Nairobi, the strangest mixture of the twentieth cen- 
turies A. D. and B. C; Mombasa with its wild, bar- 
baric passionate ebb and flow of life, of colour, ot 
throbbing sound, the great lions of the Kapiti Plains, 
the Thirst of the Loieta, the Masai spearmen, the long 
chase for the greater kudu; the wonderful, high un- 
known country beyond the Narossara and other af- 
fairs will there be detailed. If the reader of this 
volume happens to want more, there he will find it. 

406 



APPENDIX I 

Most people are very much interested in how hot 
it gets in such tropics as we traversed. Unfortu- 
nately it is very difficult to tell them. Tempera- 
ture tables have very little to do with the matter, 
for humidity varies greatly. On the Serengetti and 
lower reaches of the Guaso Nyero I have seen it well 
above i lo degrees. It was hot, to be sure, but not ex- 
haustingly so. On the other hand, at 90 or 95 along 
the low coast belt I have had the sweat run from me 
literally in streams; so that a muddy spot formed 
wherever I stood still. In the highlands, moreover, 
the nights were often extremely cold. I have re- 
corded night temperatures as low as 40 at 7,000 
feet of elevation; and noon temperatures as low as 

65. 

Of more importance than the actual or sensible 

temperature of the air is the power of the sun's 
rays. At all times of year this is practically con- 
stant; for the orb merely swings a few degrees north 
and south of the equator, and the extreme difference 
in time between its risings or settings is not more 
than twenty minutes. This power is also practi- 

407 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

cally constant whatever the temperature of the air 
and Is dangerous even on a cloudy day, when the 
heat waves are effectually screened off, but when the 
actinic rays are as active as ever. For this reason 
the protection of helmet and spine pad should never 
be omitted, no matter what the condition of the 
weather, between nine o'clock and four. A very 
brief exposure is likely to prove fatal. It should be 
added that some people stand these actinic rays 
better than others. 

Such being the case, mere temperature tables 
could have little interest to the general reader. I 
append a few statistics, selected from many, and il- 
lustrative of the different conditions. 



Locality. 

Coast 

Isiola River 
Tana River 
Near Meru 
Serengetti Plains 
Narossara River 
Narossara Mts. 
Narossara Mts. 



Eleva- 


6 




8 


Apparent conditions 


tion. 


a.m. noon. 


p.m. 






80 


90 


76 


Very hot and sticky 


2900 


65 


94 


84 


Hot but not exhausting 


33SO 


68 


98 


79 


Hot but not exhausting 


S4S0 


62 


80 


70 


Very pleasant 


2200 


78 


106 


86 


Hot and humid 


S4SO 


54 


89 


69 


Pleasant 


7400 


42 


80 


SO 


Chilly 


6450 


40 


62 


52 


Cold 



408 



APPENDIX II 



GAME ANIMALS COLLECTED 



Lion 

Serval cat 

Cheetah 

Black-backed jackal 

Silver jackal 

Striped hyena 

Spotted hyena 

Fennec fox 

Honey badger 

Aardewolf 

Wart-hog 

Waterbuck 

Sing-sing 

Oribi (3 varieties) 

Eland 

Giraffe 

Roan antelope 

Bushbuck 

Total, fifty-four kinds 



Bush pig 

Baboon 

Colobus 

Hippopotamus 

Rhinoceros 

Crocodile 

Python 

Ward's zebra 

Grevy's zebra 

Notata gazelle 

Roberts' gazelle 

Klipspringer 

Dik-dik 

Wildebeeste 

Roosevelt's wildebeeste 

Steinbuck 

Buffalo 

Topi 



Grant's gazelle 
Thompson's gazelle 
Gerenuk gazelle 
Coke's hartebeests 
Jackson's hartebeests 
Neuman's hartebeests 
Chandler's reedbuck 
Bohur reedbuck 
Beisa oryx 
Fringe-eared oryx 
Duiker 

Harvey's duiker 
Greater kudu 
Lesser kudu 
Sable antelope 
Impalla 



GAME BIRDS COLLECTED 



Marabout 
Egret 
Glossy ibis 
Egyptian goose 
White goose 
English snipe 
Mallard duck 

Total, twenty-two kinds 



Gadwall 

European stork 

Quail 

Sand grouse ' 

Francolin 

Spur fowl 

Greater bustard 



Lesser bustard 
Guinea fowl 
Giant guinea fowl 
Green pigeon 
Blue pigeon 
Dove (2 specie*) 



409 



APPENDIX III 

For the benefit of the sportsman and gun crank 
who want plain facts and no flapdoodle, the follow- 
ing statistics are offered. To the lay reader this 
inclusion will be incomprehensible; but I know my 
gun crank — I am one myself! 

ARMS 

Army Springfield, model 1903 to take the 1906 
cartridge, shooting the Spitzer sharp point bullet. 
Stocked to suit me by Ludwig Wundhammer, and 
fitted with Sheard gold bead front sight and Lyman 
aperture receiver sight. With this I did most of 
my shooting, as the trajectory was remarkably good, 
and the killing power remarkable. Tried out both 
the old-fashioned soft point bullets and the sharp 
Spitzer bullets, but find the latter far the more ef- 
fective. In fact the paralyzing shock given by the 
Spitzer is almost beyond belief. African animals 
are notably tenacious of life; but the Springfield 
dropped nearly half the animals dead with one shot; 
a most unusual record, as every sportsman will 

410 



APPENDIX 

recognize. The bullets seemed on impact always to 
flatten slightly at the base — the point remaining 
intact — to spin widely on the axis, and to plunge 
off at an angle. This action of course depended on 
the high velocity. The requisite velocity, however, 
seemed to keep up within all shooting ranges. A 
kongoni I killed at 638 paces (measured), and an- 
other at 566 paces both exhibited this action of the 
bullet. I mention these ranges because I have seen 
the statement in print that the remaining velocity 
beyond 350 yards would not be sufficient in this 
arm to prevent the bullet passing through cleanly. 
I should also hasten to add that I do not habitually 
shoot at game at the above ranges; but did so in 
these two instances for the precise purpose of testing 
the arm. Metal fouling did not bother me at all, 
though I had been led to expect trouble from it. 
The weapon was always cleaned with water so boil- 
ing hot that the heat of the barrel dried it. When 
occasionally flakes of metal fouling became visible, 
a Marble brush always sufficed to remove enough 
of it. It was my habit to smear the bullets with 
mobilubricant before placing them in the magazine. 
This was not as much of a nuisance as it sounds. A 
small tin box about the size of a pill box lasted me 
the whole trip; and only once did I completely 
empty the magazine at one time. On my return I 

411 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

tested the rifle very thoroughly for accuracy. In spite 
of careful cleaning the barrel was in several places 
slightly corroded. For this the climate was responsi- 
ble. The few small pittings, however, did not seem in 
any way to have affected the accuracy, as the rifle 
shot the following groups: 3I inches at 200 yards; 
•7I inches at 300 yards; and ii| inches at 500 yards.* 

These groups v/ere not made from a machine rest, 
however; as none was available. The complete 
record with this arm for my whole stay in Africa 
was 307 hits out of 395 cartridges fired, representing 
185 head of game killed. Most of this shooting was 
for meat and represented also all sorts of "var- 
mints" as well. 

The 405 Winchester: This weapon was sighted 
like the Springfield, and was constantly in the 
field as my second gun. For lions it could not 
be beaten; as it was very accurate, delivered a hard 
blow, and held five cartridges. Beyond 125 to 150 
yards one had to begin to guess at distance, so for 
ordinary shooting I preferred the Springfield. In 
thick brush country, however, where one was likely 
to come suddenly on rhinoceroes, but where one 
wanted to be ready always for desirable smaller 
game, the Winchester was just the thing. It was 

*It shot one five-shot i|-inch group at 200 yds., and several others at all 
distances less than the figures given, but I am convinced these must have been 
largely accidental. 

4x2 



APPENDIX 

short, handy, and reliable. One experience with a 
zebra 300-350 yards has made me question whether 
at long (hunting) ranges the remaining velocity of 
the big blunt nosed bullet is not seriously reduced; 
but as to that I have not enough data for a final 
conclusion. I have no doubt, however, that at 
such ranges, and beyond, the little Springfield has 
more shocking power. Of course at closer ranges the 
Winchester is by far the more powerful. I killed one 
rhinoceros with the 405, one buffalo and one hippo; 
but should consider it too light for an emergency 
gun against the larger dangerous animals, such as 
buffalo and rhinoceros. If one has time for extreme 
accuracy, and can pick the shot, it is plenty big; but 
I refer now to close quarters in a hurry. I had no 
trouble whatever with the mechanism of this arm; 
nor have I ever had trouble with any of the lever 
actions, although I have used them for many years. 
As regards speed of fire the controversy between the 
lever and bolt action advocates seems to me foolish 
in the extreme. Either action can be fired faster 
than it should be fired in the presence of game. It is 
my belief that any man, no matter how practised 
or how cool, can stampede himself beyond his best 
accuracy by pumping out his shots too rapidly- 
This is especially true in the face of charging danger- 
ous game. So firmly do I believe this that I gener- 

4x3 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

ally take the rifle from my shoulder between each 
shot. Even aimed rapid fire is of no great value as 
compared with better aimed slower fire. The first 
bullet delivers to an animal's nervous system about 
all the shock it can absorb. If the beast is not there- 
by knocked down and held down, subsequent shots 
can accomplish that desirable result only by reach- 
ing a vital spot or by tearing tissue. As an example 
of this I might instance a waterbuck into which I 
saw my companions empty five heavy 465 and double 
500 bullets from cordite rifles before it fell! Thus 
if the game gets to its feet after the first shock, it is 
true that the hunter will often empty into it six or 
seven more bullets without apparent result, unless 
he aims carefully for a centrally vital point. It 
follows that therefore a second shot aimed with 
enough care to land it in that point is worth a lot 
more than a half dozen delivered in three or four 
seconds with only the accuracy necessary to group 
decently at very short range, even if all of them hit 
the beast. I am perfectly aware that this view will 
probably be disputed; but it is the result of con- 
siderable experience, close observation and real in- 
terest in the game. The whole record of the Win- 
chester was 56 hits out of 70 cartridges fired; rep- 
resenting 27 head of game. 
The 465 Holland & Holland double cordite rifle. 
414 



APPENDIX 

This beautiful weapon, built and balanced like a 
fine hammerless shotgun, was fitted with open sights. 
It was of course essentially a close range emergency 
gun; but was capable of accurate work at a distance. 
I killed one buffalo dead with it, across a wide canon, 
with the 300-yard leaf up on the back sight. Its 
game list however was limited to rhinoceroses, hippo- 
potamuses, buffaloes and crocodiles. The recoil in 
spite of its weight of twelve and one half pounds, 
was tremendous; but unnoticeable when I was 
shooting at any of these brutes. Its total record 
was 31 cartridges fired with 29 hits representing 13 
head of game. 

The conditions militating against marksmanship 
are often severe. Hard work in the tropics is not 
the most steadying regime in the world, and outside 
a man's nerves, he is often bothered by queer lights, 
and the effects of the mirage that swirls from the 
sun-heated plain. The ranges, too, are rather long. 
I took the trouble to pace out about every kill, and 
find that antelope in the plains averaged 245 yards; 
with a maximum of 638 yards, while antelope in 
covered country averaged 148 yards, with a maxi- 
mum of 311. 



41S 



APPENDIX IV 
THE AMERICAN IN AFRICA 

IN WHICH HE APPEARS AS DIFFERENT FROM 
THE ENGLISHMAN 

IT IS always interesting to play the other fellow's 
game his way, and then, In light of experience, 
to see wherein our way and his way modify each other. 

The above proposition here refers to camping. 
We do considerable of it In our country, especially 
in our North and West. After we have been at it 
for some time, we evolve a method of our own. The 
basis of that method is to do without; to go light. 
At first even the best of us will carry too much plun- 
der, but ten years of philosophy and rainstorms, 
trails and trials, will bring us to an Irreducible mini- 
mum. A party of three will get along with two 
pack horses, say; or, on a harder trip, each will 
carry the necessities on his own back. To take just 
as little as Is consistent with comfort Is to play the 
game skilfully. Any article must pay in use for 
its transportation. 

With this ideal deeply ingrained by the test of 
experience, the American camper is appalled by the 

416 



APPENDIX 

caravan his British cousins consider necessary for a 
trip into the African back country. His said cousin 
has, perhaps, very kindly offered to have his outfit 
ready for him when he arrives. He does arrive to 
find from one hundred to one hundred and fifty men 
gathered as his personal attendants. 

"Great Scot!" he cries, "I want to go camping; 
I don't want to invade anybody's territory. Why 
the army.^" 

He discovers that these are porters, to carry his 
eff'ects. 

"What effects.?" he demands, bewildered. As 
far as he knows, he has two guns, some ammuni- 
tion, and a black tin box, bought in London, and 
half-filled with extra clothes, a few medicines, a 
thermometer, and some little personal knick-knacks. 
He has been wondering what else he is going to put 
In to keep things from rattling about. Of course he 
expected besides these to take along a little plain 
grub, and some blankets, and a frying pan and 
kettle or so. 

The English friend has known several Americans, 
so he explains patiently. 

"I know this seems foolish to you," he says, "but 
you must remember you are under the equator and 
you must do things differently here. As long as 
you keep fit you are safe; but if you get run down a 

417 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

bit you'll go. You've got to do yourself well, down 
here, rather better than you have to in any other 
climate. You need all the comfort you can get; 
and you want to save yourself all you can." 

This has a reasonable sound and the American 
does not yet know the game. Recovering from his 
first shock, he begins to look things over. There is 
a double tent, folding camp chair, folding easy chair, 
folding table, wash basin, bath tub, cot, mosquito 
curtains, clothes hangers; there are oil lanterns, oil 
carriers, two loads of mysterious cooking utensils 
and cook camp stuff; there is an open fly, which his 
friend explains is his dining tent; and there are from 
a dozen to twenty boxes standing in a row, each with 
its padlock. "I didn't go in for luxury," apologizes 
the English friend. "Of course we can easily add 
anything you want but I remember you wrote me 
that you wanted to travel light." 

"What are those?" our American inquires, point- 
ing to the locked boxes. 

He learns that they are chop boxes, containing 
food and supplies. At this he rises on his hind legs 
and paws the air. 

"Food!" he shrieks. "Why, man alive, Fm 
alone, and I am only going to be out three months! 
I can carry all I'll ever eat in three months in on: 
of those boxes." 

4x8 



APPENDIX 

But the Englishman patiently explains. You 
cannot live on "bacon and beans" in this country, 
so to speak. You must do yourself rather well, you 
know, to keep in condition. And you cannot pack 
food in bags, it must be tinned. And then, of course, 
such things as your sparklet siphons and lime juice 
require careful packing — and your champagne. 

"Champagne," breathes the American in awe- 
stricken tones. 

"Exactly, dear boy, an absolute necessity. After 
a touch of sun there's nothing picks you up better 
than a mouthful of fizz. It's used as a medicine, 
not a drink, you understand. 

The American reflects again that this is the other 
fellow's game, and that the other fellow has been 
playing it for some time, and that he ought to know. 
But he cannot yet see why the one hundred and fifty 
men. Again the Englishman explains. There is 
the Headman to run the show. Correct: we need 
him. Then there are four askaris. What are they.? 
Native soldiers. No, you won't be fighting any- 
thing; but they keep the men going, and act as sort 
of sub-foremen in bossing the complicated work. 
Next is your cook, and your own valet and that of 
your horse. Also your two gunbearers. 

"Hold on!" cries our friend. "I have only two 
guns, and I'm going to carry one myself." 

419 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

But this, he learns, is quite impossible. It is 
never done. It is absolutely necessary, in this cli- 
mate, to avoid all work. 

That makes how many? Ten already: and there 
seem to be three tent loads, one bed load, one chair 
and table load, one lantern load, two miscellaneous 
loads, two cook loads, one personal box, and fifteen 
chop boxes — total twenty-six, plus the staff, as 
above, thirty-six. Why all the rest of the army.'' 

Very simple: these thirty-six men have, according 
to regulation, seven tents, and certain personal ef- 
fects, and they must have "potio" or a ration of one 
and a half pounds per diem. These things must be 
carried by more m^en. 

"I see," murmurs the American, crushed, "and 
these more men have more tents and more potio, 
which must also be carried. It's like the House 
that Jack Built." 

So our American concludes still once again that 
the other fellow knows his own game, and starts out. 
He learns he has what is called a "modest safari"; 
and spares a fleeting wonder as to what a really elab- 
orate safari must be. The procession takes the 
field. He soon sees the value of the four askaris — 
the necessity of whom he has secretly doubted. 
Without i:heir vigorous seconding the headman 
would have a hard time indeed. Also, when he ob- 

420 



APPENDIX 

serves the labour of tent-making, packing, washing, 
and general service performed by his tent boy, he 
abandons the notion that that individual could just 
as well take care of the horse as well, especially as 
the horse has to have all his grass cut and brought to 
him. At evening our friend has a hot bath, a long 
cool fizzly drink of lime juice and soda; he puts on 
the clean clothes laid out for him, assumes soft mos- 
quito boots, and sits down to dinner. This is 
served to him in courses, and on enamel ware. Each 
course has its proper-sized plate and cutlery. He 
Starts with soup, goes down through tinned white- 
bait or other fish, an entree, a roast, perhaps a 
curry, a sweet, and small coffee. He is certain- 
ly being "done well," and he enjoys the comfort 
of it. 

There comes a time when he begins to wonder a 
little. It is all very pleasant, of course, and perhaps 
very necessary; they all tell him it is. But, after all, 
it is a little galling to the average man to think that 
it requires a hundred and fifty men to take care of 
him. Your Englishman doesn't mind that; he en- 
joys being taken care of: but the sportsman of Amer- 
ican training likes to stand on his own feet as far as 
he is able and conditions permit. Besides, it is ex- 
pensive. Besides that, it is a confounded nuisance, 
especially when potio gives out and more must be 

421 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

sought, near or far. Then, if he is wise, he begins 
to do a little figuring on his own account. 

My experience was very much as above. Three 
of us went out for eleven weeks with what was con- 
sidered a very "modest" safari indeed. It com- 
prised one hundred and eighteen men. My fifth and 
last trip, also with two companions, was for three 
months. Our personnel consisted, all told, of forty 
men. 

In essentials the Englishman is absolutely right. 
One cannot camp in Africa as one would at home. 
The experimenter would be dead in a month. In 
his application of that principle, however, he seems 
to the American point of view to overshoot. Let 
us examine his proposition in terms of the basic 
essentials — food, clothing, shelter. There is no 
doubt but that a man must keep in top condition 
as far as possible; and that, to do so, he must have 
plenty of good food. He can never do as we do on 
very hard trips at home: take a little tea, sugar, cof- 
fee, flour, salt, oatmeal. But on the other hand, he 
certainly does not need a five-course dinner every 
night, nor a complete battery of cutlery, napery and 
table ware to eat it from. Flour, sugar, oatmeal, tea 
and coffee, rice, beans, onions, curry, dried fruits, 
a little bacon, and some dehydrated vegetables will 
do him very well indeed — with what he can shoot.. 

422 



APPENDIX 

These will pack in waterproof bags very comfort- 
ably. In addition to feeding himself well, he finds 
he must not sleep next to the ground, he must have 
a hot bath every day, but never a cold one, and he 
must shelter himself with a double tent against the 
sun. 

Those are the absolute necessities of the climate. 
In other words, if he carries a double tent, a cot, a 
folding bath, and gives a little attention to a prop- 
erly balanced food supply, he has met the situation. 

If, in addition, he takes canned goods, soda si- 
phons, lime juice, easy chairs and all the rest of the 
paraphernalia, he is merely using a basic principle 
as an excuse to include sheer luxuries. In further 
extenuation of this he is apt to argue that porters 
are cheap, and that it costs but little more to carry 
these extra comforts. Against this argument, of 
course, I have nothing to say. It is the inalien- 
able right of every man to carry all the luxuries he 
wants. My point is that the average American 
sportsman does not want them, and only takes them 
because he is overpersuaded that these things are 
not luxuries, but necessities. For, mark you, he 
could take the same things into the Sierras or the 
North — by paying; but he doesn't. 

I repeat, it is the inalienable right of any man to 
travel as luxuriously as he pleases. But by the 

423 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

same token It is not his right to pretend that lux- 
uries are necessities. That is to put himself into 
the same category with the man who always finds 
some other excuse for taking a drink than the simple 
one that he wants it. 

The Englishman's point of view is that he objects 
to "pigging it," as he says. "Pigging it" means 
changing your home habits in any way. If you 
have been accustomed to eating your sardines after 
a meal, and somebody offers them to you first, that 
is "pigging it." In other words, as nearly as I can 
make out, "pigging it" does not so much mean doing 
things in an inadequate fashion as doing them dif- 
ferently. Therefore, the Englishman in the field 
likes to approximate as closely as may be his life in 
town, even if it takes one hundred and fifty men 
to do it. Which reduces the "pigging it" argument 
to an attempt at condemnation by calling names. 

The American temperament, on the contrary, 
being more experimental and independent, prefers 
to build anew upon its essentials. Where the Eng- 
lishman covers the situation blanket-wise with his 
old institutions, the American prefers to construct 
new institutions on the necessities of the case. He 
objects strongly to being taken care of too com- 
pletely. He objects strongly to losing the keen 
enjoyment of overcoming difficulties and enduring 

424 



APPENDIX 

hardships. The Englishman by habit and training 
has no such objections. He likes to be taken care of, 
financially, personally, and everlastingly. That is 
his ideal of life. If he can be taken care of better 
by employing three hundred porters and packing 
eight tin trunks of personal effects — as I have seen 
it done — he will so employ and take. That is 
all right: he likes it. 

But the American does not like it. A good deal 
of the fun for him is in going light, in matching him- 
self against his environment. It is no fun to him 
to carry his complete little civilization along with 
him, laboriously. If he must have cotton wool, let 
it be as little cotton wool as possible. He likes to 
be comfortable; but he likes to be comfortable with 
the minimum of means. Striking just the proper 
balance somehow adds to his interest in the game. 
And how he does object to that ever- recurring 
thought — that he is such a helpless mollusc that 
it requires a small regiment to get him safely around 
the country! 

Both means are perfectly legitimate, of course; 
and neither view is open to criticism. All either 
man is justified in saying is that he, personally, 
wouldn't get much fun out of doing it the other way. 
As a matter of fact, human nature generally goes 
beyond its justifications and is prone to criticise. 

425 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

The Englishman waxes a trifle caustic on the sub- 
ject of "pigging it"; and the American indulges in 
more than a bit of sarcasm on the subject of "being 
led about Africa like a dog on a string." 

By some such roundabout mental process as the 
above the American comes to the conclusion that 
he need not necessarily adopt the other fellow's 
method of playing this game. His own method 
needs modification, but it will do. He ventures to 
leave out the tables and easy chair, takes a camp 
stool and eats off a chop box. To the best of his 
belief his health does not suffer from this. He gets 
on with a camper's allowance of plate, cup and cut- 
lery, and so cuts out a load and a half of assorted 
kitchen utensils and table ware. He even does with- 
out a tablecloth and napkins! He discards the 
lime juice and siphons, and purchases a canvas 
evaporation bag to cool the water. He fires one 
gunbearer, and undertakes the formidable phys- 
ical feat of carrying one of his rifles himself. And, 
above all, he modifies that grub list. The purchase 
of waterproof bags gets rid of a lot of tin: the staple 
groceries do quite as well as London fancy stuff. 
Golden syrup takes the place of all the miscella- 
neous jams, marmalades and other sweets. The 
canned goods go by the board. He lays in a stock 
of dried fruit. At the end, he is possessed of a grub 

426 



APPENDIX 

list but little different from that of his Rocky Moun- 
tain trips. Some few items he has cut down; and 
some he has substituted; but bulk and weight are 
the same. For his three months' trip he has four or 
five chop boxes all told. 

And then suddenly he finds that thus he has made 
a reduction all along the line. Tent load, two men; 
grub and kitchen, five men; personal, one man; bed, 
one man; miscellaneous, one or two. There is now 
no need for headmen and askaris to handle this 
little lot. Twenty more to carry food for the men 
— he is off with a quarter the number of his first 
"modest safari." 

You who are sportsmen and are not going to 
Africa, as is the case with most, will perhaps read 
this, because we are always interested in how the 
other fellow does it. To the few who are intending 
an exploration of the dark continent this concen- 
tration of a year's experience may be valuable. 
Remember to sleep off the ground, not to starve 
yourself, to protect yourself from the sun, to let 
negroes do all hard work but marching and hunting. 
Do these things your own way, using your common- 
sense on how to get at it. Youil be all right. 

That, I conceive, covers the case. The remainder 
of your equipment has to do with camp affairs, and 
merely needs listing. The question here is not of 

427 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

the sort to get, but of what to take. The tents, 
cooking affairs, etc., are well adapted to the coun- 
try. In selecting your tent, however, you will do 
very well to pick out one whose veranda fly reaches 
fairly to the ground, instead of stopping halfway. 

I tent and ground sheet 

I folding cot and cork mattress 

I pillow, 3 single blankets 

I combined folding bath and washstand ("X" brand) 

I camp stool 

3 folding candle lanterns 

I gallon turpentine 

30 lbs alum 

1 river rope 

Sail needles and twine 

3 pangas (native tools for chopping and digging) 

Cook outfit (select these yourself, and cut out the extras) 

2 axes (small) 
Plenty laundry soap 
Evaporation bag 

2 pails 

10 yards cotton cloth ("Mericani") 

These things, your food, your porters* outfits and 
what trade goods you may need are quite sufficient. 
You will have all you want, and not too much. If 
you take care of yourself, you ought to keep in good 
health. Your small outfit permits greater mo- 
bility than does that of the English cousin, infinitely 
less nuisance and expense. Furthermore, you feel 
that once more you are "next to things," instead of 
"being led about Africa like a dog on a string." 

428 



APPENDIX V 
THE AMERICAN IN AFRICA 

WHAT HE SHOULD TAKE 

Before going to Africa I read as many books as I 
could get hold of on the subject, some of them by 
Americans. In every case the authors have given 
a chapter detailing the necessary outfit. Invari- 
ably they have followed the Englishman's ideas al- 
most absolutely. Nobody has ventured to modify 
those ideas in any essential manner. Some have 
deprecatingly ventured to remark that it is as well 
to leave out the tinned caviare — if you do not like 
caviare; but that is as far as they care to go. The 
lists are those of the firms who make a business of 
equipping caravans. The heads of such firms are 
generally old African travellers. They furnish the 
equipment their customers demand; and as English 
sportsmen generally all demand the same thing, 
the firms end by issuing a printed list of essentials 
for shooting parties in Africa, including caviare. 
Travellers follow the lists blindly, and later copy 
them verbatim into their books. Not one has 
thought to empty out the whole bag of tricks, to 

429 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

examine them in the light of reason, and to pick, 
out what a man of American habits, as contrasted 
to one of English habits, would like to have. This 
cannot be done a -priori; it requires the test of ex- 
perience to determine how to meet, in our own way 
the unusual demands of climate and conditions. 

And please note, when the heads of these equip- 
ment firms, these old African travellers, take the 
field for themselves, they pay no attention whatever 
to their own printed lists of "essentials." 

Now, premising that the English sportsman has, 
by many years' experience, worked out just what he 
likes to take into the field; and assuring you solemnly 
that his ideas are not in the least the ideas of che 
American sportsman, let us see if we cannot do some- 
thing for ourselves. 

At present the American has either to take over in 
toto the English idea, which is not adapted to him, 
and is — to him — a nuisance, or to go it blind, with- 
out experience except that acquired in a temperate 
climate, which is dangerous. I am not going to 
copy out the English list again, even for comparison. 
I have not the space; and if curious enough, you can 
find it in any book on modern African travel. Of 
course I realize well that few Americans go to Africa; 
but I also realize well that the sportsman is a crank, 
a wild and eager enthusiast over items of equipment 

430 



APPENDIX 

anywhere. He — and I am thinking emphatically 
of him — would avidly devour the details of the 
proper outfit for the gentle art of hunting the to- 
tally extinct whiffenpoof. 

Let us begin, first of all, with : 

Personal Equipment — Clothes. On the top of your 
head you must have a sun helmet. Get it of cork, 
not of pith. The latter has a habit of melting unob- 
trusively about your ears when it rains. A helmet 
in brush is the next noisiest thing to a circus band, so 
it is always well to have, also, a double terai. This 
is not something to eat. It is a wide felt hat, and 
then another wide felt hat on top of that. The ver- 
tical-rays-of-thfe-tropical-sun (pronounced as one 
word to save time — after you have heard and said 
it a thousand times) are supposed to get tangled and 
lost somewhere between the two hats. It is not, 
however, a good contraption to go in all day when the 
sun is strong. 

As underwear you want the lightest Jaeger wool. 
Doesn't sound well for tropics, but it is an essential. 
You will sweat enough anyway, even if you get down 
to a brass wire costume like the natives. It is 
when you stop in the shade, or the breeze, or the 
dusk of evening, that the trouble comes. A chill 
means trouble, sure. Two extra suits are all you 
want. There is no earthly sense in bringing more. 

431 



THE LAST FRONTIER 

Your tent boy washes them out whenever he can 
lay hands on them — it is one of his harmless 
manias. 

Your shirt should be of the thinnest brown flan- 
nel. Leather the shoulders, and part way down 
the upper arm, with chamois. This is to protect 
your precious garment against the thorns when you 
dive through them. On the back you have buttons 
sewed wherewith to attach a spine pad. Before I 
went to Africa I searched eagerly for information or 
illustration of a spine pad. I guessed what it must 
be for, and to an extent what it must be like, but 
all writers maintained a conservative reticence as 
to the thing itself. Here is the first authorized de- 
scription. A spine pad is a quilted affair in con- 
sistency like the things you are supposed to lift hot 
flat-irons with. On the outside it is brown flannel, 
like the shirt; on the inside it is a gaudy, orange col- 
our. The latter is not for aesthetic effect, but to 
intercept actinic rays. It is eight or ten inches wide, 
is shaped to button close up under your collar, and 
extends halfway down your back. In addition it 
is well to wear a silk handkerchief around the neck; 
as the spine and back of the head seem to be the most 
vulnerable to the sun. 

For breeches, suit yourself as to material. It wnl 
have to be very tough, and of fast colour. The best 

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APPENDIX 

cut is the "semi-riding," loose at the knees, which 
should be well faced with soft leather, both for 
crawling, and to save the cloth in grass and low 
brush. One pair ought to last four months, roughly- 
speaking. You will find a thin pair of ordinary 
khaki trousers very comfortable as a change for 
wear about camp. In passing I would call your 
attention to "shorts." Shorts are loose, bobbed off 
khaki breeches, like knee drawers. With them are 
worn puttees or leather leggings, and low boots. 
The knees are bare. They are much affected by 
young Englishmen. I observed them carefully at 
every opportunity, and my private opinion is that 
man has rarely managed to invent as idiotically un- 
fitted a contraption for the purpose in hand. In a 
country teeming with poisonous insects, ticks, fever- 
bearing mosquitoes; in a country where vegetation 
is unusually well armed with thorns, spines and 
hooks, mostly poisonous; in a country where, of- 
tener than in any other a man is called upon to get 
down on his hands and knees and crawl a few as- 
sorted abrading miles, it would seem an obvious 
necessity to protect one's bare skin as much as pos- 
sible. The only reason given for these astonishing 
garments is that they are cooler and freer to walk in. 
That I can believe. But they allow ticks and other 
insects to crawl up, mosquitoes to bite, thorns to 

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THE LAST FRONTIER 

tear, and assorted troubles to enter. And I can 
vouch hy experience that ordinary breeches are not 
uncomfortably hot or tight. Indeed, one does not 
get especially hot in the legs anyway. I noticed 
that none of the old-time hunters like Cuninghame 
or Judd wore shorts. The real reason is not thac 
they are cool, but that they are picturesque. Com- 
mon belief to the contrary, your average practical, 
matter-of-fact Englishman loves to dress up. I 
knew one engaged in farming — picturesque farm- 
ing — in our own West, who used to appear at after- 
noon tea in a clean suit of blue overalls! It is a 
harmless amusement. Our own youths do it, also, 
substituting chaps for shorts, perhaps. I am not 
criticising the spirit in them; but merely trying to 
keep mistaken shorts off you. 

For leg gear I found that nothing could beat our 
American combination of high-laced boots and 
heavy knit socks. Leather leggings are noisy, and 
the rolled puttees hot and binding. Have your 
boots ten or twelve inches high, with a flap to buckle 
over the tie of the laces, with soles of the mercury- 
impregnated leather called "elk hide," and with 
small Hungarian hobs. Your tent boy will grease 
these every day with "dubbin," of which you want 
a good supply. It is not my intention to offer free 
advertisements generally, but I wore one pair of 

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APPENDIX 

boots all the time I was in Africa, through wet, 
heat, and long, long walking. They were in good 
condition when I gave them away finally, and had 
not started a stitch. They were made by that 
excellent craftsman, A. A. Cutter, of Eau Claire, 
Wis., and he deserves and is entirely welcome to this 
puff. Needless to remark, I have received no espe- 
cial favours from Mr. Cutter. 

Six pairs of woollen socks — knit by hand, if pos- 
sible — will be enough. For evening, when you 
come in, I know nothing better than a pair of very 
high moosehide moccasins. They should, however, 
be provided with thin soles against the stray thorn, 
and should reach well above the ankle by way of 
defence against the fever mosquito. That festive 
insect carries on a surreptitious guerrilla warfare 
low down. The English "mosquito boot" is simply 
an affair like a riding boot, made of suede leather, 
with thin soles. It is most comfortable. My ob- 
jection is that it is unsubstantial and goes to pieces 
in a very brief time even under ordinary evening 
wear about camp. 

You will also want a coat. In American camping 
I have always maintained the coat is a useless gar- 
ment. There one does his own work to a large ex- 
tent. When at work or travel the coat is in the 
way, When in camp the sweater or buckskin shirt 

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THE LAST FRONTIER 

is handler, and more easily carried. In Africa, 
however, where the other fellow does most of the 
work, a coat is often very handy. Do not make the 
mistake of getting an unlined light-weight gar- 
ment. When you want it at all, you want it warm 
and substantial. Stick on all the pockets possible, 
and have them button securely. 

For wet weather there is nothing to equal a long 
and voluminous cape. Straps crossing the chest 
and around the waist permit one to throw it off the 
shoulders to shoot. It covers the hands, the rifle 
— most of the little horses or mules one gets out 
there. One can sleep In or on it, and it is a most 
effective garment against heavy winds. 

One suit of pajamas is enough, considering your 
tent boys commendable mania for laundry work. 
Add handkerchiefs and you are fixed. 

You will wear most of the above, and put what 
remains in your "officer's box." This is a thin 
steel, air-tight affair wilh a wooden bottom, and Is 
the ticket for African work. 

Sporting. Pick out your guns to suit yourself. 
You want a light one and a heavy one. 

When I came to send out my ammunition, I was 
forced again to take the other fellow's experience. 
I was told by everybody that I should bring plenty, 
that it was better to have too much than too littWi 

436 



APPENDIX 

etc. I rather thought so myself, and accordingly 
shipped a trifle over 1,500 rounds of small bore car- 
tridges. Unfortunately, I never got into the field 
with any of my numerous advisers on this point, so 
cannot state their methods from first-hand infor- 
mation. Inductive reasoning leads me to believe 
that they consider it unsportsmanlike to shoot at 
a standing animal at all, or at one running nearer 
than 250 yards. Furthermore, it is etiquette to 
continue firing until the last cloud of dust has died 
down on the distant horizon. Only thus can I 
conceive of getting rid of that amount of ammuni- 
tion. In eight months of steady shooting, for ex- 
ample — shooting for trophies, as well as to feed a 
safari of fluctuating numbers, counting jackals, 
marabout and such small trash — I got away with 
395 rounds of small bore ammunition and about 
100 of large. This accounted for 225 kills. That 
should give one an idea. Figure out how many 
animals you are likely to want for any purpose, 
multiply by three, and bring that many cartridges. 
To carry these cartridges I should adopt the Eng- 
lish system of a stout leather belt on which you slip 
various sized pockets and loops to suit the occasion. 
Each unit has loops for ten cartridges. You rarely 
want more than that; and if you do, your gunbearer 
is supplied. In addition to the loops, you have 

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THE LAST FRONTIER 

leather pockets to carry your watch, your money, 
yuui matches and tobacco, your compass — any- 
thing you please. They are handy and safe. The 
tropical climate is too "sticky" to get much comfort, 
or anything else, out of ordinary pockets. 

In addition, you supply your gunbearer with a 
cartridge belt, a leather or canvas carrying bag, 
water bottle for him and for yourself, a sheath knife 
and a whetstone. In the bag are your camera, 
tape line, the whetstone, field cleaners and lunch. 
Yoa personally carry your field glasses, sun glasses, 
a knife, compass, matches, police whistle and note- 
book. The field glasses should not be more than 
six power; and if possible you should get the sort 
with detachable prisms. The prisms are apt to 
cloud in a tropical climate, and the non-detachable 
sort are almost impossible for a layman to clean. 
Hang these glasses around your neck by a strap 
only just long enough to permit you to raise them 
to your eyes. The best notebook is the "loose- 
leaf" sort. By means of this you can keep always 
a fresh leaf on top; and at night can transfer your 
day's notes to safe keeping in your tin box. The 
sun glasses should not be smoked or dark — you 
can do nothing with them — but of the new am- 
berol, the sort that excludes the ultra-violet rays, 
but othervvise makes the world brighter and gayer, 

4d» 



APPENDIX 

Spectacle frames of non-corrosive white metal, not 
steel, are the proper sort. 

To clean your guns you must supply plenty of 
oil, and then some more. The East African gun- 
bearer has a quite proper and gratifying, but most 
astonishing horror for a suspicion of rust; and to 
use oil any faster he would have to drink it. 

Other Equipment. All this has taken much time 
to tell about, it has not done much toward filling 
up that tin box. Dump in your toilet eflFects and 
a bath towel, two or three scalpels for taxidermy, a 
ball of string, some safety-pins, a small tool kit, 
sewing materials, a flask of brandy, kodak films 
packed in tin, a boxed thermometer, an aneroid 
(if you are curious as to elevations), journal, tags 
for labelling trophies, a few yards of gun cloth, and 
the medicine kit. 

The latter divides into two classes: for your men 
and for yourself. The men will suffer from certain 
well defined troubles: "tumbo,"or overeating; diar- 
rhcea, bronchial colds, fever and various small injuries. 
For "tumbo" you want a liberal supply of Epsom's 
salts; for diarrhoea you need chlorodyne; any good ex- 
pectorant for the colds; quinine for the fever; per- 
manganate and plenty of bandages for the injuries. 
With this lot you can do wonders. For yourself 
you need, or may need, in addition, a more elabo- 

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THE LAST FRONTIER 

rate lot: Laxative, quinine, phenacetin, bismuth 
and soda, bromide of ammonium, morphia, camphor- 
ice, and asperin. A clinical thermometer for whites 
and one for blacks should be included. A tin of 
malted milk is not a bad thing to take as an emer- 
gency ration after fever. 

By this time your tin box is fairly well provided. 
You may turn to general supplies. 



THE END 



440 




THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS 
GARDEN CITY, N, V. 



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